Harry Potter and the Impossibility of Time Travel
by ChibiChibi
Summary: Three years post Hogwarts, post OotP. The final battle has started, but Voldemort still has a trump card hidden in his sleeve to finally get rid off Harry - he sends Harry and his friends to the past and now it is up to them to find a way home.
1. As the Years passed

**_Harry Potter and the Impossibility of Time Travel_**

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**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all the other characters of the Harry Potter Verse belong to J.K. Rowling. I don't own any of it and I won't make any profit with this story.**

**A/N: Hello everyone! Welcome to my first Harry Potter fanfiction! What have I done before? Well, I was mostly, and still kind of am, since a few of my stories are still unfinished, into Dragonball Z and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I have long thought about starting yet another story, but I always had in my mind that there are still others to be finished and that I should maybe finish them before. I also have two more ideas for a BtVS fanfiction in my mind, but last night I had a dream and the idea to this Harry Potter fanfiction was born. I don't know if this has been done before but if it has, please give me a chance, because I will try to make the best out of it. If you wonder about the title, I can only say that it will be explained sometime during the story. I also have no idea how long auror training takes, so I make it two years…**

And now, on with the story!

**Chapter 1: As the Years passed**

It was yet another sultry summer night at the Burrow near the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. The whole day not even the slightest breeze had come over the dry land but now, near midnight, the wind slowly seemed to pick up. The sky was starlit and it was almost completely dark except for the light that shone through the windows of the Burrow. Everyone was inside, having a huge party, but one person sat outside on a trunk and stared into the sky, now and then taking a drag at his cigarette. 

He did not like the taste of it, but still he could not stop. The fags seemed to be the only thing to ease some of the tension that had been built up in his body over the last years. He had started this bad habit some time during seventh year when the stress with the NEWTs (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests) and the feeling of helplessness because of the looming threat of the Death Eaters became too much to bear. He had so badly wanted to go out and do something, but he knew that he was not ready yet. Voldemort had gained too much power over the three years since he fully came back at the end of fourth year. Only one person was still able to rival him and that person was Albus Dumbledore. But there was a catch. Dumbledore would not be able to kill Voldemort. Killing the Dark Lord, or still He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in most wizards opinion, was his burden, his alone and no one could take it from him. It was his destiny, his prophecy.

 _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…_

Twenty-one years old Harry Potter ran a hand through his long unruly hair. Even after hearing it only once five years ago, he still knew it by heart. He no longer was The Boy Who Lived. Ever since the 'incident', as the Cornelius Fudge liked to call it, in the Department of Mysteries, The Boy Who Lived has become The Man Who Fought. During sixth and seventh year at Hogwarts he had worked harder than ever before, rivalling even Hermione with the top scores, making his way free to auror training after school. The new look, hair down to his shoulder, though often tied back, black rimmed spectacles replaced by enchanted contact lenses and a through regular workout sessions lean but muscular body had earned him the title heartbreaker. How he had received the title was still a mystery for him, because after Sirius' death, dating had been the last point on his to-do-list.  

If his friends had been worried about him those last two years at Hogwarts they had not shown it. Instead they supported him to his fullest, though he had never told them - never told anyone - about the prophecy. He did not want to drag them into his fight. He had already lost his parents and his godfather and he was not ready to lose another one who was close to him.

Much to everyone's surprise Voldemort himself had been lying low during those two years and had instead only sent his Death Eaters to wreak havoc. Most targeted were muggles or muggle-born witches and wizards, but purebloods who were opposing the Dark Lord were also not safe from attacks. 

Three years ago during the last Quidditch match Gryffindor versus Slytherin shortly before Harry's seventh year at Hogwarts was over, Voldemort attacked with a large army. The battle was ferocious. Students died as well as teachers. Minerva McGonagall went down facing ten Death Eaters, taking all of them with her. Neville Longbottom, the once so shy and clumsy boy, died protecting a group of first years who had not been able to make it into the castle in time. Harry had heard it from Hermione after the battle was over and Voldemort had retreated, though no one understood why. The Dark Lord had been clearly on the winning side. Harry assumed that it was just a show of his power to humiliate Dumbledore, himself and everyone who followed the old headmaster. 

However, during the battle Harry had formed an unlikely alliance. Somehow while warding off Death Eaters, he had lost sight of Hermione and Ron and had been fighting along with some other students through some of Voldemort's black hooded followers. He had only seen out of the corner of his eyes how one of them had raised his wand, but at the same moment he had heard a strangely familiar voice calling out "Expelliarmus!" The wand of that Death Eater had flown out of his hand and Harry had turned around to see Draco Malfoy, still like Harry in his Quidditch gear, running up to him. Harry had eyed him suspiciously, his mistrust having even more grown after having seen the Dark Mark burning through a rip in the silver and green uniform. "Damn it, Potter! Watch out!" the Slytherin yelled, just in time for Harry to duck and avoid a killing curse. Draco had pulled his surprised arch-nemesis to his feet and had smirked at the look on his face. "Dumbledore sent me to watch your back."

"Did he?" Harry had mumbled and had looked around to see his headmaster about fifty yards to his left. Their eyes had met and Dumbledore had nodded, as though knowing the question that had been in Harry Potter's head. Could he trust Malfoy? He had just saved his life, twice. This had to mean something. But maybe it had just been a trick? _'Dumbledore trusts him. Trust Dumbledore's judgement!' "Fine Malfoy! You watch my back, I watch yours."_

"Sounds like a plan to me." The two young men, once enemies, nodded at each other and then stood back to back to face yet another wave of Death Eaters.

Harry smiled grimly at this memory. He had survived the battle nearly unscathed as had few others. The hospital wing was crowded for days after. Many students had to be transferred to St. Mungo's. Luckily Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Luna had only received minor injuries and could leave the hospital wing after a couple of days. The day of the battle was the gravest day ever since Voldemort had been defeated the first time. And Harry himself had not even seen him. This only confirmed his assumption that Voldemort only went for the humiliation in this battle. 

At the last day of the school year, a large ceremony was held for all those who had lost their lives during the fight. That day as Harry had seen all the pictures of the ones who had died, he swore to himself that he would not rest until Voldemort was dead. Though when he had first heard the prophecy it had been a horrifying thought to kill him, it did not bother him anymore and only a few days later Harry found himself enrolled in Auror training. 

He had again been surprised, when he found out that Draco Malfoy had been in his class. He also saw some other students from his year and also from years above him. They were living in rooms for four persons directly on the grounds of the training centre. Training had been hard, harder than he had expected and some of the others gave up. But he did not. He had learned curses and counter curses, received lessons in hand-to-hand-combat, fighting with swords and other weapons and duelling. Theories and laws had been pumped into their heads until they could not think straight anymore. But Harry had kept going until he and only a handful others received their diplomas at the end of the two years. And again, after those two years, Harry did not know if fate was for or against him, because he and Draco Malfoy became partners. Most surprisingly for both of them, it worked out. They were not friends, but after the Battle of Hogwarts and later during the training, they had formed some kind of truce and tolerated each other. 

During his training he also developed other useful abilities. First he became a – registered of course – Animagus. From the moment on he knew what his Animagusform was, all the doubts that had been plaguing him since second year when they found out about him being a Parselmouth and the rumours about him being the heir of Slytherin were gone, because his form was the one of a mighty lion, the symbol for Gryffindor. Apparation came to him like a second nature and he had found out that he sometimes was able to cast spells without using his wand or just by thinking the spell. He had of course, immediately after finding out about this, contacted Hermione, who had told him only a few days later that this was a rare occurrence but possible. In this time, only another wizard was known for those abilities – Voldemort. _'Figures,' Harry had thought. __'The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not.'_

Harry absentmindedly touched the scar on his right cheek. A reminder from another enclosure with Death Eaters. It had been shortly after the Auror training and he and Draco had been sent out to a 'beginner's mission', as it was called to catch some minor criminal. However, as they had arrived at the address they were told it had turned out to be an ambush. Several Death Eaters had been lurking for them in the shadows and had attacked as soon as they had arrived. The leader of the attack had been Lucius Malfoy and after he had stunned his own son, he had advanced upon Harry. Before Harry could even react, he had been disarmed, his wand now lingering in the hand of one of the Death Eaters. He had tried to dodge the curse Lucius had sent at him, but barely managed to. He had felt blood trickling down his cheek, as he had tried to sit up again. He could still see the cruel smirk on the older Malfoy's face and feel the rage he had felt burning inside. This had been the first time he had used the wandless magic in public and the first time he had ever killed a human being. After the display of that power, the rest of the Death Eaters had just run. After reviving Draco, Harry had informed his partner that he had killed his father and that he was not sorry for Lucius but for Draco. His answer had only been a few words. _'He had never been my father.'_ And for the first time since Harry knew Draco Malfoy, he felt truly sorry for him.

After their return to the Ministry to report the events, the traitor was exposed due to the use of Veritaserum on the Aurors. He was arrested and thrown into Azkaban.

While Harry had been busy with his auror training, Hermione had also decided to do something useful and prepared younger generations in the art of Transfiguration at Hogwarts. Dumbledore had offered her the position on their last day at Hogwarts. Hermione had declined at first, but after she had told Harry and Ron about the proposal, they had persuaded her to accept. Of course she always said that she would never be as good as the deceased Professor McGonagall, but she would do her best. 

After her graduation, Ginny had followed in her brother's Bill footsteps as curse breaker and Luna Lovegood helped her father with The Quibbler. But Ron's career after Hogwarts had been the most surprising one. During his last two and half years he had finally found something at which he was not just mediocre, but really good. Only one week after his graduation the trainer of the Chudley Cannons, offering him the position as Keeper, had approached Ron. Though he had been excited, his first reaction had been like Hermione's. He had told him that the wizarding as well as the muggle world was in grave danger and that he did not have time to play on their team, as much as he had wanted to. The trainer had nodded in understanding and had given him his card, in case Ron changed his mind. He did, after a lot of talking, fighting and discussing with his family and friends. They had told him that he should do what he really wanted to as long as it was still possible, but could still be a member of the Order, if he wished to.

Harry was glad that Ron and Hermione and also Ginny and Luna had found what they really wanted to do, while he himself was always thinking if he would have wanted to do something different if the threat of Voldemort had not been ever-present. Hermione was usually practically glowing when she came out of a classroom, after having shared her knowledge with her pupils. And Ron, well, Ron was the reason there was this great party at the Burrow. Today had been the day of the Quidditch Championship Finale of Great Britain and it was the Chudley Cannons versus Puddlemere United, with the Cannons coming out as the winning team. For the first time in years the Cannons won the title and that was reason enough to party. The match itself had been really interesting though most former Hogwarts students and especially Gryffindors did not know whom to cheer for. On the Puddlemere side the Keeper was Oliver Wood, former Gryffindor Team Captain and on the Cannons side it was Ron Weasley, whose reputation as Keeper was rivalling Wood's at Hogwarts.

"You know, you should give up that bad habit of yours," the voice of a young woman scolded. 

"Should I?" Harry looked at Hermione Granger, who sat down next to him in the grass. In the last years, she had become a throughout beautiful young woman. She was thin, but not too thin and she did not hide her curves anymore when she was not wearing robes. Her once bushy hair had finally settled down and was now only slightly wavy. 

"Yes, you should. They will kill you someday, you know?" Though the voice was still accusing, he could hear the humour in it and he could also see a small smile playing on her lips. "You should also come inside. It's not only Ron's party, but also yours in a couple of minutes."

In a couple of minutes would be the 31st of July and then he would be twenty-one years old. _'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…'_

"It's calm… too calm… for too long. Something will happen soon," Harry mumbled thoughtfully. 

Hermione sighed. "I think so too. It has been a couple of months since the last attack. But let's go inside now. The others are waiting and only sitting here and waiting for an attack will do no good. You should enjoy yourself from time to time."

Harry managed a smile as he got up. "You're right. Let's go." He took one last drag from his cigarette and threw it to the ground before squishing it with his boot.

Suddenly, from one second to another, a burning pain shot through his scar. He winced sharply and felt cold sweat on his forehead. An all too familiar hissing voice appeared in his mind.

_'Morsmordre!' _

Harry's eyes shot to the sky. A nervous Hermione followed his gaze. "Harry, what's…" Before she could even finish the question, a skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth like tongue lit the sky and nature around them in an emerald green. "The Dark Mark…"

"Hermione! Go, get the others!" When she did not react, his command turned into a yell. "GO! NOW! THEY'RE HERE!"

Their eyes met and he knew that she understood. Tonight was the night. He watched her run back to the Burrow, before pulling his wand out of his boot, waiting.

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So, what do you think? Do you like it so far? I hope so and I would be happy to receive at least a few reviews…

Please remember that this is only some kind of introduction, the rest of the story will be mostly different.

Eternally yours

ChibiChibi


	2. Proferre Tempus

**A/N: Well, first of all thank you for the, uhm, one review… Okay, at least one person is reading this story, so I might as well continue with it… Maybe some others will also start reading, when I stubbornly continue to post chapters…  Good (scratch head), I also wanted to warn you that I don't know any Latin and because of that I don't know if the spell I'm using in this chapter is grammatically right, so please bear with me!**

Okay, I think that was everything I had to say… Now, on with the chapter!

**Chapter 2: Proferre Tempus**

Hermione stumbled over the lawn to the front door of the Burrow and pulled it open, completely out of breath. The still partying occupants turned their heads, fully expecting Harry to be in Hermione's company, but confusion was evident on their faces, when they spotted her disheveled form. Hermione's face was flushed a deep red, her eyes wide and her hair was messy due to the run. 

"Oy 'Mione, what's up?" Ron, still wearing his orange and black Chudley Cannons attire, asked. "Where's Harry?"

"The Dark Mark!" she breathed. "Death Eaters are here! Harry is waiting for them…"

The whole room went silent and quick looks between the present members of the Order of Phoenix were exchanged. "Molly," Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody ordered, his magical blue eye moving too fast for anyone to see more than a blur, "get Dumbledore. We try to keep them at bay until the others arrive."

Molly Weasley grabbed a Phoenix-formed pendant around her neck and disappeared with a 'plop'. The Weasley twins, Fred and George, as well as their older brothers Charlie and Bill, ran past Hermione, their wands poised in their hands, followed by their father Arthur Weasley, Moody and Remus Lupin. Before Lupin, however, could pass Hermione, she grabbed his arm. 

"Remus… Harry, he believes that this time Voldemort is with them. That tonight, it will end…" 

Lupin acknowledged this fact with a grim look upon his face, before he, too, darted outside. Hermione just wanted to follow him, when she heard Ron yelling. "What do you think you're doing?" She first thought that this was directed at her, but Ron was shouting at his younger sister Ginny and her friend Luna Lovegood. Both had their wands in their hands and seemed to be ready to join the others outside. 

"This is our fight as much as it is yours," Ginny countered. "We're going."

"They're right, Ron," Hermione said calmly. "They are also members of the Order and you can't stop them from going out and fight the Death Eaters."

Grudgingly Ron relented and together the four of them left the house. The Dark Mark was still dangerously looming at the horizon, but they could not see any Death Eaters yet. Ron and Hermione quickly joined Harry in the middle of the group assembled outside and the two younger girls went to the right flank. Harry smiled at his friends, though it was somewhat forced. His scar was still hurting and his nerves were ready to burst. 

Shortly after popping noises could be heard all around the place. The Order members were arriving. Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry saw Hagrid, Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt, closely followed by Elphias Doge, Dedalus Diggle, Sturgis Podmore and Hestia Jones. Emmeline Vane and Mundungus Fletcher had let their lives in former Death Eater Attacks. Behind him, he heard Molly and Lupin talk in hushed voices. No one dared to move. Harry's mind was reeling. Where was Dumbledore? What was keeping him so long? 

A popping noise next to him let his head jerk around, but it was not Dumbledore. "What, Potter? Not happy to see me?" Draco Malfoy teased.

For the first time, Harry did not retort. Instead he was deadly serious. "I'm waiting for Dumbledore."

"He will be here, soon," Severus Snape's voice hissed behind him. "He said he had to get something first."

Get something first? What was Dumbledore playing at? Didn't he know that they needed him here? 

"There they are." Hearing Ron say this, Harry immediately turned his attention back to the upcoming battle. And indeed, black masses were moving towards them. Harry tried to do a head count, but it was too dark and there were too many. 

_Too many._ Too dark.__

It suddenly seemed as if someone had switched off the stars. Even the Dark Mark was gone. 

_So cold.___

When the air had been warm and sultry before, it now felt as if he were in the deepest of winter. Harry heard long, hoarse, rattling breaths and got a clammy feeling in his stomach. His scar was searing once again and then he heard them, the voices in his head. _Not Harry! Not Harry!! Please, not Harry! _

Dementors! They were building the front line! 

_Kill the spare! _

Harry raised his wand, trying to think of something happy. 

_SIRIUS!_ SIRIUS!_ _

"Expecto Patronum!" Nothing happened. _Happy thoughts!__ Happy thoughts!_ He glanced to his left and noticed that his friends seemed to have similar problems with conjuring a Patronus with this mass of Dementors advancing. _Tonight it will end! This is the last fight and I will kill Voldemort! Then it is finally over and we can live in peace! "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" A silver stag emitted from the tip of his wand and galloped towards the Dementors. _

And sure enough, with the Dementors thrown back by Harry's Patronus, the others were able to conjure theirs. Soon enough it was an army of Dementors versus and army of Patronuses, the silver forms being successfully able to force the Dementors into retreat. 

This victory, however, was of short duration. They still had to face an army of Death Eaters and of course Voldemort himself. Harry looked around. There was still no sight of Dumbledore. 

_'I'm waiting,' the voice in his head hissed._

"I know," Harry answered aloud, earning incredulous glances from those standing close to him. With or without Dumbledore, they could not stall any longer. If they did not attack first, the Death Eaters would. And how went the old saying? Attack is the best means of defence. "But you won't have to wait any longer. It's time." He raised his wand and shot red sparks into the air. "ATTACK!"

The members of the Order of Phoenix rushed forwards, some stealthily, some, like Hagrid, with a loud roar. 

Momentarily stunned by this bold and unexpected move, the Death Eaters hesitated. This however was long enough for the Order to send stunning and disarming spells into the first rows of their enemies. Few were knocked down, most of the others managed to conjure a shield just in time, but were not able to make them strong enough to withstand a bodily attack on top of the spells. 

The two parties clashed like two giant waves. Green and red sparks flew to his left and to his right. Harry saw some of the jets of red lights hitting Hagrid, but they were just bouncing off him, just as they had already done years ago, when High Inquisitor Dolores Jane Umbridge had sent Aurors to capture the half-giant. The Death Eaters trying to stun him never stood a chance. Since he was expelled from Hogwarts, Hagrid was not allowed to do any magic nor did Harry think that his friend was able to do major spells that might help them, but with his massive figure and his incredible strength, he made more than up for it. One swing with his fist and a couple of Death Eaters were lying at his feet, unconscious. Hagrid caught Harry's gaze and winked at him, before turning his attention back to his foes. 

Harry smiled at Hagrid, just before he ducked the green light of a curse, which he had more felt than seen and disarmed his attacker quickly, the wand getting lost in the chaos around them. The young man then rushed forward and, without using his wand at all, lunged a hard upper-cut at his opponents jaw, sending the wizard sprawling on the floor. Before he had the chance to get up again, Harry lazily stunned him. He was not going for the kill, not until he was facing the one _person_, if he could even call him that, that had made his life miserable ever since he was one year old. 

He sprung around, his gaze quickly wandering over the fighting wizards and witches. _I'm__ here… Harry turned around once again and there he saw him. Black robes fluttering around him, pale, spidery fingers holding a wand. They were not close, but Harry could swear that he could make out the slits of his nostrils and the burning red eyes._

A curse missed Harry's hand just by inches, but he did not care. Voldemort was finally showing itself. It was time. Only one or neither of them would leave this battlefield alive. 

_And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…_

Eyes trained on Voldemort, he began a determined stride in his direction, while his archenemy slid past his fighting minions, now and then pushing one aside with magic, when they were blocking his way. None of them raised their wands, when they finally met. They only stared at each other. 

After having set a now fleeing Death Eater on fire, Hermione turned her head to do a quick head count, only making sure that the people closest to her were still up fighting, when she saw them, Harry and Lord Voldemort walking up to each other with a determination that she had never seen before. She still could not see Dumbledore and she was sure that Harry alone never stood a chance against Voldemort, no matter how good he had become over the last years. "Ron! Malfoy!" she yelled to those fighting closest to her and Harry. "He can't do that alone!" The two young men immediately understood what she was talking about and followed her.

"Voldemort," Harry acknowledged him with a deep growl in his voice. 

"Harry Potter, we finally meet again." Voldemort's voice was barely above a whisper, a quiet hiss, and yet Harry could understand him perfectly well. "You've grown since our last encounter, become more _manly_. But still alone as I see. Always alone. It has been like this from the very beginning. No, I remember that the first time we met, your mudblood mother was trying to protect you. How little did she know that she was only giving you a couple of years… And tonight you will leave this plane of existence, Harry. Alone. Happy Birthday…"

"He's not alone," Hermione yelled, as she came to a stop just a step behind Harry, along with Ron and Draco.

"Get out of here," Harry barked at them, but none of them moved an inch. "This is my fight!"

"I see." The Dark Lord seemed thoughtful for the split of a second. "Miss Granger I presume. And there is Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy. Draco, isn't it? You would have made a formidable Death Eater, just like your father was. But allying yourself with Harry Potter and Dumbledore… A mistake…"

None of them answered, all holding their gaze with the man – _being – that had brought so much despair over the wizarding world. _

"I'm impressed. Most people would be cowering in fear, when they saw me. Well, if you don't want to leave without Harry, then I suggest you leave with him. But first, I want to see a reaction from at least one of you." He quickly raised his wand and pointed it at Hermione. "CRUCIO!"

"Protego!" It was not more than a whisper, but a shield had appeared in front of the four young people, though none of them had their wand raised. 

Voldemort eyed Harry with an amused look on his face. "Remarkable. I was told that you were able to do this, but I thought that my Death Eaters were exaggerating. It's draining, isn't it? Holding this shield without the strengthening core of your wand? Even I find this task exhausting and wouldn't able to hold it much longer. It's harder than most people think, harder than cursing someone without a wand, because now you have to concentrate a steady amount of magic into this shield, while with a curse you only have to gather the magic once and then let it explode."

Much to his annoyance, Harry knew that Voldemort was right. He would not be able to keep the shield up any longer. His scar was hurting so much that he had the feeling his head would split any moment and sweat was trickling down his face and back. He wished he could use his wand, but he did not want to repeat what had happened on the cemetery what seemed like ages ago. He could first use his, when Voldemort had lost its brother. 

_Now or never!___

He let the shield down and yelled, "Expell—"

But Voldemort seemed to have only waited for this moment. As soon as it was obvious that the shield was fading, he raised his wand once again and finished his spell before Harry could finish his. "Proferre Tempus!" 

Something that resembled a green bubble came out of the tip of Voldemort's wand, closing itself around Harry and his friends, before one of the four could react in any way. All of them tried to get out, using spell after spell, but they were only absorbed. Though his vision was obscured through the bubble, Harry finally saw Dumbledore, holding something seemingly heavy, but his heart dropped. Somehow he knew, it was too late. This time, Dumbledore could not safe them. 

They heard Voldemort's shrill laughter through the bubble and then, with a wish of his wand, everything went quiet around them and the battlefield disappeared.

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Goody… I know, short chapter, but I wanted to get this out. From today on I have even less time to write (but only for two months), because I have to study for a rather important exam in March. So please, don't be angry! I promise I'll continue as soon as I have time!

By the way, a small explanation of the spell Voldemort used: proferre = shift; tempus = time.

And please, please, pleeeaaaase leave a review, okay?

Eternally yours

ChibiChibi


	3. Friend or Foe?

**A/N:    **So, I've already studied a bit today and guess what, I'm about halfway through the theoretical part. But there are still many calculations that I have to revise and this won't be fun… But at least I found out that this test actually doesn't mean a thing of the end mark I receive in one and a half year, so I could study a bit more relaxed… But I think you know this feeling… An exam is an exam and no matter how much it counts, you're still pretty nervous…

So, enough babbling… On with the chapter! Oh yeah, I almost forgot again… Marek, thanks a lot for your review! I swear, if you didn't review, I would have discontinued this story, but now I can't leave you hanging, can I?

**Chapter 3: Friend or foe?******

Harry felt as if he was flying, no, falling was more like it. He opened his eyes and saw blurring pictures moving by at an incredible speed. Now and then it seemed to him as if he or the pictures were slowing down, for he recognized some of them. The ambush of the Death Eaters, when he had killed Lucius Malfoy. An extremely difficult test during his Auror training. The battle of Hogwarts. Sirius falling through the veil. 

He went faster again. He only caught glimpses of the pictures. The maze of the Triwizard Tournament. The Goblet of Fire standing in the Great Hall. Buckbeak. Sirius as dog. Tom Riddle. Aragog. The Philosopher's Stone. Diagon Alley. 

Faster and faster it went. It was impossible to see anything except of blurred colors. A flash of green light. More colors and then everything went dark again. Harry finally hit ground. 

Though his head was still spinning, he sat up warily. While doing so, his hands gripped grass and damp ground. The spinning slowly stopped and after Harry stood up, he took in his environment. It was dark and he was surrounded by trees. His head jerked up, when an owl hooted to his right, but immediately turned back, when he heard a groan coming from his left hand side. Hermione, Ron and Malfoy were slowly coming to. Harry smiled despite this situation. At least he was not alone – wherever he was.

"Oh man, what a trip," Ron grunted, shaking his head. "Where are we?" The other two seemed to be thinking along the same line, because they were giving Harry expectant looks, as if he knew the answer to that question. 

"I don't know…" he answered tiredly. "In some woods, I guess, but this could be nearly everywhere."

"Bloody great! For all I knew Voldemort could be jumping at us any second now!" Ron cursed, gripping his wand tightly. 

"No…" Harry suddenly said. He wondered how he had not noticed this before. Though his whole body was aching like hell and he could feel every bone, he could not feel his scar. No pain, no thumping, simply nothing. His hand flew to his forehead. But the scar was still there. He could still feel the small unevenness in his skin.

"What are you talking about, Potter?" Draco snarled. "We were just facing him, so he has to be somewhere here!"

"My scar is not hurting, not at all, so he can't be here," the black haired young man explained. "I also wonder…" He stopped, not really knowing how to put the thoughts in his mind into words. Though he had experienced something similar before, the thought of _it_ having happened again, especially through a spell, the uttering of a few words, was just too abstract. 

"What, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"I mean, did you also see… _things_, when you were falling? I think they were memories or… things that happened… I saw them in reversed order, so I think…" His voice faltered again. How could he explain to his friends, what he could not even explain to himself?

Draco crossed his arms over his chest. Through his torn robes, the Dark Mark was slowly fading, but remaining visible. "Are you suggesting that we _traveled back in time_?" he spat the last part.

"Time travel?" Ron asked confused. "But isn't that impossible?"

Harry, a small part of him being glad that his thoughts had been put into words by anyone but him and therefore having gained a small feeling that he might not be completely insane, and Hermione looked at each other. Both thinking of the one time they _had_ traveled back in time, though there had been different circumstances. 

"Actually," Hermione began, "time travel is possible. But, Harry, we don't know anything for sure. This isn't the same as with the Time-Turner. With it's help we could have only gone back in time a couple of hours, one day at the most, and we would have wound up in the same place where we used it."

"Maybe this is the same place, only that Voldemort had found a way to send us back not just a few hours, but I don't know how many years." Harry kicked the grass, hating this feeling of helplessness.

"Hush," the young woman suddenly said. "I think I heard something."

The four of them slightly raised their wands and indeed, they could hear voices and rustling heading towards them. 

"Listen," she whispered. "If we really traveled back in time, we might not be seen. We have to hide somewhere."

_"Hey! I think I heard something! Over there!"_ one of the voices – _a strangely familiar voice_, Harry thought - said. 

They froze. It was too late to hide. They could only hope that those unbidden guests were not putting up a fight, so that they could at least use a memory charm on them. But maybe, before they did that, they could find out where and most importantly, _when_ they were.

"Stay close, but not too close," Harry ordered in a hushed voice. "Lower your wands. We don't want them to feel threatened." The others obeyed. "Here they come."

Four figures were coming out of the shadows and stopped. At the same moment their faces became visible, Harry's heart missed a beat. In front of them four young men were standing. A pale one with brown hair, one with longer black hair that elegantly fell over his eyes, one with unruly black hair and a small, mousy haired one. Moony, Prongs, Padfoot and...

"Wormtail," Harry hissed, as he recognized the last person of the foursome. Anger rose in him. First this man had betrayed Sirius and was responsible that he had been sent to Azkaban, where he had wasted away before he could finally flee after twelve years. Then he had helped Voldemort return to his full power and in the end, since Wormtail had been able to flee before they had been able to prove Sirius' innocence, he was responsible for Sirius' long _imprisonment_ at Grimmauld Place, which was one reason for his death. 

Before any of his friends could react, the anger in Harry exploded and he leapt at the small man. Harry never saw the three red jets of light coming and everything around him went black yet again.

"You!" James Potter yelled at Hermione, Ron and Draco, his wand still trained on the now unconscious Harry. "Surrender your wands and do everything we say, then your friend won't be hurt."

~*~

Harry did not know how much time had passed when he finally awoke. His first reaction, after he came to, was a searching grip for his wand, but it was gone. He did not dare to sit up; instead he took a good look at his surroundings without moving too much. He found himself lying on a more or less comfortable cot in a small square room. One half of the room was confined with bars – his half. The floor and walls were made of dark stone, but the room itself was warm despite the cold environment. A gas lamp lit the room in a dim light and so he could make out the two men sitting at a table on the other side of the bars. 

His heart leapt again. At first, he had thought that he had been dreaming, but now that he was seeing them again, he knew that the events in the forest had really happened. Suddenly a thought hit him and he sat up abruptly. Where were Hermione, Ron and Draco. He was alone in this room, so where were the others? Were they also imprisoned? Were they okay? Or… He did not even want to think about the worst-case scenario. And he did not need to, because he was quickly jerked out of his thoughts. 

"Finally woke up, didn't you?" the one men, one Harry had come to love as a father, a brother and a friend, though he looked much younger and healthier now, drawled. 

"Finally, Sirius?" the other man asked slightly amused. Harry had only seen this man in photographs before and a few times in the Mirror of Erised. He did not look much different from how Harry had seen him before. The same untidy black hair, the same glasses… This man was James Potter like everyone had known him. They really _had_ gone back in time. For a moment, Harry truly tried to believe this, but it was just too unreal. It was just as it had been with the Mirror of Erised. Harry wanted it to be true, but it was most unlikely. This might as well be a trap by the Death Eaters. A trap of genius, because it must have taken a lot of magic to create those clones or whatever they were. "You may not forget that he was hit by three Stunnings Spells. And he was only out for a couple of hours. Others might take days, if not weeks to recover. This one's tough." 

"Whatever," Sirius muttered as he rose from the chair. "I'll go get Dumbledore. You can play watchdog until we're back."

James smirked at his friend. "I always thought you'd be more suited as watchdog than I."

"Funny," Sirius countered, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and went up the stairs Harry had not noticed before in the room, and went through a wooden door at the top. 

  
Harry had watched this whole exchange with an unexplainable fascination. If they were actors, they were doing a good job. Over the years and especially after his trip into Snape's memories, Harry had gathered enough information about his parents and their friends to have a rather fine picture of them in his mind. He was still staring at the now closed door, when he felt a pair of eyes on him. He turned his head to his father – _No, not my father. An imposter_, Harry tried to tell himself. – and their eyes locked. 

"What about the people that were with me?" he finally managed to ask. He did not dare to say _friends_, in case those who were holding them captive did not know of their friendship – a truly unlikely thing if they were Death Eaters – but it never hurt to be careful. He did not want Hermione, Ron and even Malfoy to be hurt. 

"They're upstairs. I said we should have sent you and them straight to Azkaban, especially the one with the Dark Mark. But Dumbledore told us no. He said there is something about you, something he could not put his finger on. He wanted to interrogate all of you before he decides what to do with you. I swear, there are times when I don't understand him, but I trust him and when I look at you closer, I must say, you look familiar to me," James informed him. "What's your name?"

"That's none of your business," Harry told him as calmly as possible. If he had learned one important thing in his Auror training, it was control of his temper. 

"None of my business?" the other asked. "May I remind you whom of us is…"

"That's enough, James," Dumbledore's calm voice interrupted him. He walked down the stairs and stopped in front of the bars, giving the sitting Harry a good once-over. "Interesting," he mumbled, before he turned his attention back to the other young man. "James, Poppy informed me to get you. Your wife is waiting."

Harry could swear that James' eyes widened, before he quickly climbed the stairs and closed the door behind him. When James was gone, Harry turned his head again to the man that claimed to be Albus Dumbledore. Like James and Sirius, Dumbledore also looked younger, though just slightly. He was wearing midnight blue robes and a pointed hat in the same color. Simple and useful, but elegant. Half-moon glasses were settled on his nose and his eyes held the same twinkle Harry had known ever since he had first met the Headmaster. 

None of them spoke at first, both staring at each other in silence. Suddenly Harry felt the familiar feeling of someone probing in his mind. He looked Dumbledore sharp in the eyes and banned him from his mind, accompanied by the calm words _"Get out."_ spoken in his thoughts. 

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled even more and his lip curled up into a small smile. "Interesting indeed." He conjured a stuffy red armchair in front of the bars and sat down in it, but not before also conjuring one behind the bars. 

Harry eyed both him and the armchair suspiciously, before slowly getting up from the cot and warily sitting down in the chair. But while Dumbledore was sitting comfortably, Harry chose to sit straight. All of his senses were on full alert, as he contemplated on how to get out. The aura of magic in this room came only from Dumbledore – _Really good__,_ Harry silently congratulated him. Even the aura's were the same - that meant the bars were not charmed. He could easily open the door without his wand, as well as getting past some of the guards, but there was still the fact that he did not know what had happened to his friends. 

"Do not worry," Dumbledore suddenly said, as if reading his thoughts, though this time Harry was sure that he had stayed out of his mind. "Your friends are all well. We did not hurt them, though I must admit that Peter, who you obviously seem to know as the others told me, had really wanted to, when they wouldn't talk. None of them had shown fear. I got the impression that they would have died for you if it was necessary. And this not because they are scared of you, no, they care for you. You must be a true and loyal friend to them, if they were ready to go through hell with you and they must truly think highly of you. This is also the reason why you're secluded. We assume that you might be their leader and therefore we thought it might be possible to talk to you. 

As I am sure you know the alliance with Voldemort is sentenced with a lifelong presence at Azkaban." Harry could only stare. No one except the real Dumbledore and a few member of the Order dared to speak the name. He was sure that not even a Death Eater threatened to do it by the Dark Lord himself would be able to speak this name without fear or at least the slightest stutter in his voice. Harry's resolve that the people, people of his past and present, were imposters, slowly faded. Instead the crazy theory that they indeed had traveled back in time came back again. "Now, the evidences are speaking for this alliance. One of your friends bears the Dark Mark…"

"He's not a Death Eater," Harry heard himself saying. 

"So, is he not…" Dumbledore mused. "What do I have except your word that this is true?"

"What do I have except your word that you are truly Albus Dumbledore?" Harry argued. 

"That's true, that's true… I have to admit, I don't like using Veritaserum and I doubt that you'd be drinking anything I'd offer, so I think our words are the only thing we have."

"So, you believe me?" Harry asked rather astonished. _He's__ lying, he's lying_, a voice spoke up in the back of his mind, but somehow, deep down, Harry started to _feel_ that this man was truly Dumbledore. He only needed the final proof. 

"The question is not do I believe you, but, do I trust you… and I think you know the answer to that question…" 

"How should I know?"

Silence fell yet again, as Dumbledore left the question unanswered. Harry lowered his head and pondered over the question. Why would this Dumbledore trust him? He had appeared in the middle of nowhere, out in the woods, looking battered and worn down and one of them was bearing the Dark Mark, the symbol of Voldemort. His friends were upstairs and they had not uttered a word. Not one single word. 

_I got the impression that they would have died for you if it was necessary. And this not because they are scared of you, no, they care for you. You must be a true and loyal friend to them, if they were ready to go through hell with you…_

They were friends and they cared for each other. Death Eaters did not care for anyone but themselves. They would die for Voldemort not out of loyalty, but out of fear. Dumbledore knew that they were not like Voldemort's followers, not in the least. That was the reason why this Dumbledore trusted him. 

Harry looked up and met the expectant gaze of the old man. "I see," Dumbledore said with a smile on his lips. "You know why I trust you. But I think I will leave you for now, so that you can decide if I'm worthy of your trust." 

With a quiet _Evanesco_Dumbledore's armchair vanished, but Harry's remained. Dumbledore looked at the young man one last time, before he climbed the stairs. He had just touched the handle, when Harry began to speak. 

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other…" 

"For neither can live while the other survives… The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…" Dumbledore finished quietly, before he turned back to the now standing young man behind the bars. "How do you know about this prophecy? It was only spoken a couple of weeks ago and I was the only one present except of one eavesdropper, but he only knows the beginning of it."

"This is not the only thing I know," Harry answered, now finally starting to trust Dumbledore. It was simply impossible that an imposter would know the exact wording of the prophecy. So he told him what he knew, though he had Hermione's scolding voice in the back of his mind. "A boy was born in the last week, wasn't it so? The son of Frank and Alice Longbottom? They called him Neville… But he is not the one the prophecy was about, as you will find out in a bit more than a year. The prophecy is about the boy that was born today, only about half an hour ago, I think. He's the son of Lily and James Potter and they named their son Harry."

Harry could feel Dumbledore's slightly bemused eyes on him, but he continued nevertheless. "From Halloween on, one year from now, he will be known as the Boy Who Lived, because he survived Voldemort's Avada Kedavra. The spell rebounded, but did not kill Voldemort. He managed to flee, but was only a shadow of his former self. Without a body and without power he waited ten year until he first attempted to regain his power, but it took him three more years to finally succeed. However, when he fled after having been stripped from his power, he left the boy, completely unharmed except of a lightning shaped scar on his forehead." Harry lifted his bangs. "This scar."

"So you are Harry Potter and from the future I guess… that explains a lot, of course," Dumbledore mused, chuckling quietly. "May I ask how you managed to travel so many years back in time? How many, by the way?"

"Twenty-one years. It was my twenty-first birthday when Voldemort and his Death Eaters attacked. He used a spell on my friends and me. I don't quite remember it, but to discuss the exact methods of time travel it would be best if you talk to Hermione…" Harry answered, also smiling.

"This Hermione is one of your friends, right?" Harry nodded. "Well then, I think we better go and ask her." Dumbledore pulled his wand out of his sleeve and pointed it at the door. "Aloho-" He did not need to finish his spell, because the door sprung open after Harry had given a quick wave with his hand. Dumbelore eyed him curiously. "As I already said, Mr. Potter, you are truly an interesting young man."

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Whoow, this chapter was longer as the previous ones… And I hope of course that you like it at least as much as the others!

But please, please, please, when you read this, please leave a small review for me, okay? I think most of you know how encouraging reviews could be!

Well, I think the only thing I can do is hope…

Eternally yours

ChibiChibi


	4. Reunion

**A/N: **So, finally another chapter finished and I must say: Thank you for the reviews you left me! Reviews make an author happy and diligent to continue! J

**Chapter 4: Reunion**

Harry started to become nervous, as he climbed the stairs behind Dumbledore. Who would he meet, once he stepped through the door? He was sure that these were the headquarters of the Order of Phoenix, wherever they were located. This was not Grimmauld Place 12, Harry would have recognized that place immediately and besides, if his memory was not failing him, then Mrs. Black would still be alive in this time. He would have to ask Dumbledore later, after he had made sure that his friends were safe and sound. 

Dumbledore opened the door and, after having taken a deep breath, Harry followed him outside. His eyes squinted against the harsh light that was greeting him and it took him a few seconds to adjust to the changes. It looked like they were in a kitchen. The room was rather small, with a kitchenette at one wall, some shelves at another and a rectangular wooden table in the middle. Through a window that was placed above a worktop, he could see that the sun was slowly rising. He quickly calculated the time that must have passed between the attack and now. It must have been about five to six hours. 

"Dumbledore, what's _he_ doing here?"

Harry turned to the source of the voice and recognized it as Sirius'. The younger version of his godfather was glaring daggers at him. The other few occupants of the room also stared at him, though not with as much enmity as Sirius did. Harry's mind was running wild. He knew those people from the picture Moody had shown him, when he had first arrived at Grimmauld place before his fifth year. He identified them as Frank Longbottom, who, in Harry's time, had been driven insane by Bellatrix Lestrange, Sturgis Podmore, and Edgar Bones, who Harry also had never gotten to know. 

"This young man and his friends," Dumbledore told them, "have unfortunately appeared in the woods near the Burrow at a rather inopportune moment and have therefore been drawn into something they would have rather stayed out of."

"But one of them bears the Dark Mark," Sirius interjected, "and we've only been able to catch them, because there was a Death Eater attack planned on the Weasleys last night and we only found them. _This one_," he pointed at Harry, "attacked Peter without a reason."

"Sirius, trust me. I was assured that the young man bearing the Dark Mark is no Death Eater, at least not anymore," he added, with a light twinkle in his eyes directed at Harry. "I have reason to believe in their innocence and therefore I will invite them to stay either here or at Hogwarts as long as they wish as, let's say, reparation for what they've been put through."

"But," the black haired man tried to argue again. He was, however, interrupted by Dumbledore.

"No more of it." His voice was firm enough to tell Sirius that the headmaster would not allow any more arguing in that matter, but was still soft, making it clear that he was not angry but understood the situation. "By the way, do you have word from James already? Poppy just told me that a child was born, but deprived me of any more information. I believe James asked you to be the child's godfather."

Suddenly the glare on Sirius' face was replaced by a look full of pride and astonishment. "Yes, he did and we just talked through the fireplace a couple of minutes ago. He and Lily are proud parents of a small boy. They called him Harry." 

"I see," Dumbledore smiled through his long beard. "Congratulations are in order then. I hope that I will soon be able to see the small boy, but first I have business to attend to. Frank, could you please fetch the wands of our visitors?"

The lanky man, who was the exact opposite of his wife, quickly nodded and left the room, only to return half a minute later with four wands. "Here you are, Albus. I was going to check this one with Ollivander this morning, because it seemed quite extraordinary." He lifted an eleven inches long, brown wand. "This one has a phoenix feather as core and if I'm correct…"

"I don't think that would be necessary anymore," Dumbledore interrupted him, using the same voice he had already used on Sirius earlier and took the wands. He gave them to Harry, who accepted them gratefully and said, "Well then, I think we should not let your friends wait any longer. Please follow me."

Harry obeyed Dumbledore and followed him through another door which led into a hallway and then up a flight of stairs. Now that he again held his wand in his hand, he felt a lot more secure. Even though he knew how to do magic without his wand, it was still a source of confidence and he would have regretted it deeply, if it had been broken or lost. The encounter with Sirius had left him a bit downhearted, but he could understand his intentions. Harry would have probably reacted the same way, if one of his friends had been attacked by some unknown and mysterious person and Sirius did not know yet that Wormtail was a traitor. The only question in Harry's mind concerning this was, if Peter was already a Death Eater or would still become one in the following year. 

He knew that he had acted on the anger he was feeling towards Wormtail and he also knew that he could not risk to expose more than he already had. As much as he wanted to take care of Wormtail before he could betray his parents and therefore save their lives, he could not do it. At least not until they had made sure what kind of influence they would have on the future events.

Harry had been so engrossed in his thoughts that he did not notice Dumbledore halt in front of a door and almost ran into him. He suddenly began to grow nervous again. What if someone had hurt his friends, despite what he had been told? How would he react in that kind of situation? But suddenly a much worse thought hit him: What would Hermione do to him, when he told her what he had told Dumbledore? He could clearly remember the warning she had given first when they had used the Time Turner in their third year and again shortly before the Marauders had found them: _Keep out of sight!_ But it was too late now. They had been seen, caught and the only way to get out of this alive and unscathed had been telling the person they trusted the most about what had happened. 

Dumbledore quickly knocked twice at the door and then opened it. Harry followed him inside, his nerves being ready to burst. The room where they were now in resembled a study. There were bookshelves on the walls and Harry thought that Hermione might be more than happy to snoop through some of them. Right next to the door, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew were sitting at a table and in the middle of the room Hermione, Ron and Draco were bound to three chairs. Their eyes widened considerably as they spotted Harry behind Dumbledore, looking despite the scratches and torn clothes he had received during their earlier fight against the Death Eaters unharmed. 

"Professor, what is going on?" Lupin inquired, when he, too, spotted their fourth captive. 

Harry clenched his fists, when he saw Wormtail practically hiding behind Lupin and he despised him even more than before. Sure, he had known before that Peter Pettigrew was more a tag-along, but that he was nearly wetting his pants, when he was in the room with the one who had attacked him earlier that night, though Lupin and Dumbledore were present as well, was simply pathetic. He could not believe that such a person would be able to fake his own death to send one of his formerly best friends to Azkaban. Yet, Harry himself had experienced the results of Wormtail's treachery and came to the conclusion that only incredible fear of someone could cause such drastic measures. 

"For now, let's just say that I was convinced that those young persons were only at the wrong place at the wrong time and had nothing to do with the planned attack on the Weasleys." 

Harry saw Ron's eyes widen even more, when Dumbledore mentioned the planned attack, but he remained silent. 

"So y-you want to s-say that they are innocent?" Wormtail asked quivering. "But _he_ attacked me and _this one_ has the mark of You Know Who."

"I'm sure there are explanations for everything, but yes, I do believe in their innocence. So, would you be so nice to untie them and please leave the room? I want to give them some privacy to discuss what has happened."

Lupin and Pettigrew obeyed, though the latter more grudgingly and loosened the ties. The three friends rubbed their wrists, but still did not say anything. The two Marauders left the room and Dumbledore was bound to follow them, but he turned around before he closed the door. "Mr. Potter, I will make sure that some breakfast is prepared for the four of you when you decide you want to eat. After that I would like to speak to all of you privately about the matter we discussed earlier, Mr. Potter."

After the headmaster had closed the door behind him and Harry had placed a silencing charm on the room so that no one could hear what they were talking about, Hermione rushed at Harry, almost crushing him in the hug. "Oh Harry! You're so stupid! We were worried sick!"

"Hermione…" he gasped, though with humor in his voice. "Need air."

She quickly let go of him and mumbled, "Sorry."

"Hermione's right," Ron said. "Where have you been? They didn't want to tell us anything. Well, it seemed like Remus wanted to, but Wormtail kept him from saying anything. By the way, I do believe you now that we are in the past."

"They kept me downstairs in the cellar," Harry told them, while he was sitting down in one of the chairs. "They thought that I was the leader of our little group," he pointedly ignored the snort Draco gave him, "and Dumbledore decided that he would interrogate me alone. I only woke up a bit more than half an hour ago, I think and Dumbledore came immediately to talk to me."

"What did you tell him?" Hermione wanted to know. Her voice already showed the accusing tone she usually used when she did not approve of something the three young men did. "Dumbledore called you Mr. Potter, so don't tell me that—"

"I told him," Harry answered her simply. "And I'm sorry about it, as much as I am sorry about attacking Wormtail. I know this is no excuse, but the anger at him suddenly overcame me and I didn't know what I was doing anymore until the three Stunners hit me. And I had to tell Dumbledore otherwise he would have never believed me."

"Right," Draco drawled, "Dumbledore believed you this story about us traveling to the past instead of some simpler story that you could have come up with? I highly doubt that."

Harry sighed deeply. He knew that this would not be easy to convince them. "I told him something, something only the two of us know, that's how _I_ made sure that he was the real Dumbledore and not some imposter. He had even started to trust me before that, because you guys have shown great loyalty to me, but to believe me that we come from the future, I think he had to hear what I said."

"What was it? I mean, what you said to him, the thing only you two know about…" Ron asked. 

"Nothing, really." Harry shook his head. He still did not plan to tell his friends about the prophecy anytime soon. He could just imagine their reaction to this, even after all the years and all the fights. Draco simply would not believe it, Ron would pale and ask him, if he was kidding and Hermione, well, she would most likely consult her books and come up with some theories to disprove the prophecy – they all knew how she thought about divination. 

He looked up and saw in his friends' faces that they did not believe him, but they did not pry further. Instead, Hermione asked, "And what was the matter you two discussed that he wanted to talk about later?"

"Time Travel. I told him that the right person to speak to about it would be you. But don't worry, I didn't tell him anything about you, none of you. I did not even tell him about the fate of my parents, only that Voldemort attacked, left me with this scar and was able to flee. I thought that it should be up to you how much you want him to know," he quickly reassured them. He was getting slowly tired of this. His body was aching, something he had not noticed before, probably due to the adrenalin that had been pumping through his veins, but now, that he had the chance to calm down, he could feel the wounds he had received during the battle. He was getting hungry and he felt completely drained. Even his scar started again tingling slightly, but he put it off as unimportant. It had the tendency to tingle, when he was feeling utterly exhausted. Fact was that he did not want to talk about himself anymore, so he quickly changed the topic. "So, but how about you? What has happened after I was out?"

So his friends took turns in telling him what had happened. After the Stunning Spells had hit Harry, the three of them had surrendered their wands as James had ordered, because they did not want Harry to be hurt. Then their hands had been bound behind their backs with magically strengthened ropes and they had been led out of the woods to a field, where some other wizards had already been waiting, while Sirius had carried Harry over his shoulder. The three of them had immediately recognized one of the persons on the field. It had been Ron's father, Arthur Weasley. He had asked if the four young men had caught the attackers and instead of answering, Ron, Hermione and Draco had been pushed forth. Mr. Weasley had given them a good once-over, hesitating slightly, when his gaze had landed on Ron, but shaking his head, telling the Marauders and the other two present members of the Order to follow him. He had offered them to use his fireplace to floo back to the headquarters, since they could not apparate with their captives. James had seemed ready to decline, but Lupin had pointed out that this was their only option to return. 

After a short walk, they had arrived at the Burrow. A couple of more people were waiting outside. A plump woman, who held a small red headed baby boy in her arms. It was a younger version of Molly Weasley and the baby seemed to be Ron. Two other toddlers with red hair were wildly running around her, chasing each other, one small boy hid behind his mother and yet two other boys, also with red hair, were standing calmly next to their mother, staring expectantly at their visitors. 

"Is that them?" she had asked, cradling the baby even closer, when she had seen the three strangers and the one stranger slung over Sirius's shoulder.

"Yes, Molly," Lupin had told her comfortingly. "Don't worry, they won't be able to harm anyone anymore. Arthur offered to use your fireplace to return to the headquarters."

"Of course," she had said, smiling gently, but her face had still been deprived of its natural color. "You know the way, but excuse me, when I stay outside until you're gone. But thank you." She had glanced at her children and Lupin had understood. 

"We have to thank you. You should know that we would never let anyone harm you, Arthur or any of your sons." Lupin had stayed with Mrs. Weasley, while his comrades had led their captives inside and pulled them into the green flames of the floo network. 

"Thank you, again." Mr. Weasley had put a hand on the young man's shoulder, when he had been the only one left, and had squeezed it gently. "You know that, if my situation were different, I would join you…"

Lupin had only smiled at him. "Don't you worry. Dumbledore said it before and I say it again: Your family is more important than anything else. You would only be in more danger, if you were a member of the Order, and you have to think about Molly, Charlie, Bill, Fred, George and of course little Ron. They should be your first priority."

"I know, but it's just so hard doing nothing," Mr. Weasley sighed. 

"I know…" A short silence fell over the room, before Lupin eventually walked over to the fireplace himself. "See ya later."

"Do you have any idea how strange it is to suddenly see your whole family and yourself, only that you are a baby?" Ron asked Harry, still being somewhat excited about what had happened. 

"Yes, I know," Harry answered with a sad look upon his face. 

"Oh sorry, Harry… I didn't think…" Ron stammered quickly. 

"A Weasley thinking? I'd never thought I'd see that happen."

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Ron growled, but Harry put a comforting hand on his friends shoulder and smiled at him.

"Don't worry, Ron. I don't know, I feel kind of happy that I had the chance to meet them, even if I always dreamt that the situation would be different." He let go of his friend's shoulder and looked at the others. "So, what do you think? I'm getting kind of hungry and I also think that we should talk to Dumbledore as soon as possible. Maybe he knows a way to bring us back."

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Okay, another chapter finished. I truly hope you liked this one as much as the others… 

However, please leave a review!

Eternally yours

ChibiChibi


	5. Talking time

**A/N:**    Hiya! Sorry that it took again so long. So I'll make it short so that you can start to read: Thank you for the reviews!

**Chapter 5: Talking time**

Harry led his friends back the way that Dumbledore had shown him where Ron, Hermione and Draco had been kept. Fortunately the place was not that big, because Harry had a hard time remembering the exact turns, since he had been deep in thoughts on his way upstairs. He almost sighed with relief, as they arrived in the kitchen. He had almost expected to appear in some storeroom or something like that, which would have earned him at least a snide comment from Malfoy. 

Much to Harry's surprise, the only person present in the kitchen was Albus Dumbledore. Hermione, Ron and Draco stopped behind him, taking in their surroundings warily. He could understand his friends – he himself did not feel comfortable at all. The strange surroundings, unfamiliar familiar faces and most of all the fact that they had really gone back in time sinking in was enough reason to feel on edge. Suddenly he heard Draco wincing sharply and noticed the probing look Dumbledore had given the blond auror. The next thing Harry knew was that Draco had pulled out his wand and directed it at Dumbledore. The black-haired young man quickly pushed Draco's arm down and glared at him sharply.

"What do you think you're doing?" he hissed.

"He tried to get into my head!" Draco retorted. He did not take his eyes from the Headmaster and his arm was still tense. Harry recoiled slightly, knowing fully well what Draco was talking about, since he had been on the end of Dumbledore's prying mind earlier that day and also understanding that the old wizard must have taken a look into his other friends' minds as well.

"Tried being the keyword," Dumbledore said calmly. "I did not expect that not just one, but two of you are trained that exceptionally well in Occlumency."

Now it was Ron, who Harry felt tense remarkably. "You were snooping around in our heads?"

"Ron!" Harry warned. He knew that they were all tired and exhausted, and so far the only one who had not snapped at anyone was Hermione. They needed to keep cool in this situation, since fighting with each other would not help them improving their current predicaments.

"Sorry," the redhead muttered. 

"You don't need to be sorry for your reaction," the Headmaster assured him. "I understand your reasons as I hope you do understand mine."

"You needed to do this to confirm what Harry told you. You trusted him before, but the others asked you to do this to make sure that we mean no harm." It was the first time since they entered the kitchen that Hermione said something and it made sense to the others. 

"Indeed, Miss— Hermione, wasn't it?" The young woman nodded tiredly. "Well then, why don't you sit down, eat something and then we can discuss the concepts of time travel."

Harry watched somewhat amused how Hermione's eyes lit up by the mentioning of time travel and Ron's by the mentioning of food. Some things never changed, it seemed. When he noticed, however, that his friends were still a bit hesitant to sit down, he did the first step and pulled out a chair for himself. Slightly more encouraged by his example, they followed suit and soon they were seated around the rectangular table. As soon as Draco had sat down as last one, dishes appeared in front of them and with a plop a house-elf materialized next to them, holding a plate with a huge stack of sandwiches in its one hand and a teapot in the other. It looked like any other house-elf with the large ears and the huge eyes, dressed in a pillowcase. Its appearance earned Dumbledore an angry look by Hermione, who still did fully intend to continue with S.P.E.W. (Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare) as soon as the nightmare with Voldemort was over. 

"Milly is bringing Professor Dumbledore and Professor Dumbledore's guests the sandwiches and tea just like he asked Milly to do, Sir," the elf squeaked, as she put the plate and pot on the table.

Dumbledore smiled kindly at the elf. "Thank you Milly. You may now retire to your quarters."

"Thank you, Sir, you are too kind to Milly!" The house-elf snapped her fingers and disappeared, leaving the five of them again alone. 

"What are you waiting for? I assure you, Milly's sandwiches are only topped by the ones of a dear friend and former pupil of mine." He said this while giving Ron a side-glance, which the young man, however, did not notice, because after having gotten the permission to eat, his full devotion had gone to the sandwiches. The other three friends shrugged at each other and each took one of the sandwiches. 

When Dumbledore thought that the first hunger of the young people were sated, he guessed that it was time to talk. "I do not mean to bother you, you may continue to eat, but I believe there are some things which we have to discuss. Young Mister Potter has already told me a bit, including some rather fascinating and interesting revelations, but he left out your identities," he addressed Ron, Hermione and Draco. "I could be guessing, but I think it would be a lot easier for all of us if you just told me at least your names and probable relations to people I know in this time, so that we can maybe avoid confrontations."

The three of them exchanged uncertain looks and also glanced at Harry, who gave them an encouraging nod, saying, "We don't have anything to lose. He already knows about me, so what harm is done, if he knew about you as well?"

Hermione smiled at him and started. "My name is Hermione Granger and I'm a Muggle-born witch, so I don't think you know any relatives of me."

"Indeed, I don't. Miss Granger, Mr. Potter told me that it would be you I should talk about time travel, so I guess that you are quite knowledgeable." Hermione fought a blush that was creeping up her cheeks and nodded slightly. Dumbledore then turned to Ron, who was seated next to her. "You are a Weasley, I take it?"

"Yes, I'm Ron, I mean, Ronald Weasley, but everyone just calls me Ron," the young man told him. "I'm not as smart as Hermione, but I think I'm a pretty good strategist." Harry and Hermione could not help but snort something that sounded much like "Understatement of the century" and Ron glared at them. 

"And you play Quidditch," Dumbledore added, referring to the orange robes he was still wearing. Ron mumbled something like yeah, before the Headmaster finally addressed the last one of the three. "You are not in any way related to Lucius Malfoy, are you?"

Draco growled under his breath. "He was my father. The name's Draco Malfoy." He broke the eye contact to Dumbledore and turned his interest back to the half-eaten sandwich on his plate to make it clear that he would not tell more about himself. 

Dumbledore, however, was not affronted by this action and instead gave the group once again a good look-over. He had been right with his earlier assumptions, this group was truly interesting. Harry Potter, prophecy-child and only survivor of the killing curse, Hermione Granger, a Muggle-born witch with an seemingly infinite mind, Ron Weasley, loyal friend and great strategist and Draco Malfoy, son of a Death Eater with an apparently troubled past – four different persons with four completely different characters, each of them filling out what the others don't have. But they had one thing in common – their eyes betrayed that they had all seen too much in their young years, too much suffering, too much death. Dumbledore shook his head inwardly. Now was not the time for this. He needed to know what brought them back in time in the first place so that he could find a way to bring them back. He knew of the dangers of time travel, of the dire consequences that could occur once something was changed. 

"Good, now that we are done with the introductions I say we should move on to more pressing matters. Miss Granger, would you like to enlighten us what exactly happened, which spell Voldemort used and so on?"

Hermione nodded and then proceeded to tell him everything without revealing anything that might disrupt the timeline any more than their appearance already did. She told him about the attack at the Burrow and about how Harry had faced Voldemort alone. She continued by telling the Headmaster how they had joined their friend and at last about the spell Voldemort had cast on them and they had come to in the woods. When Hermione had mentioned the spell "Proferre Tempus", Dumbledore had raised an eyebrow, but had not interrupted the young woman.

Harry had started to feel drowsier with any minute that passed. The aching in his body had gotten worse and through the hunger was gone, he was still completely and utterly exhausted. Ron also looked like his head might hit the table any minute now and Draco had taken sudden interest in a fly that was zooming through the kitchen. Harry rubbed his forehead. He did not want to worry his friends and Dumbledore, but the tingling he had felt earlier in his scar had turned into a splitting headache, making it hard to concentrate on anything. 

"You okay, Harry?" he suddenly heard Hermione asking. He had not even noticed that she was finished with her tale, and looked up startled. 

"It's… nothing…" he answered quickly. _He's__ angry_, Harry thought. _He's__ angry that the attack on the Weasley's failed._ "I think we could all use some rest before we continue. I don't think we're of much help this way."

"Of course," Dumbledore said. "You must forgive an old man. I forgot that you have all been through a battle before you arrived here and then with the stress put on you after your arrival, it's no wonder that you are exhausted. We will adjourn this conversation until you are well-rested. Unfortunately, I have not enough room for you in this house, so I would suppose that you come to Hogwarts with me. While you were still upstairs, I have seen that quarters for you were prepared in which you are allowed to stay as long as you wish."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said. "We really appreciate that."

Professor Dumbledore smiled at them and transformed the teapot into a portkey. When all of them had a grip on it, he counted down from three and Harry felt the familiar jerk behind his navel. He barely managed to stand, when they appeared in a circular room. Though it was a warm morning – the sun was already fully up – a fire was burning in the fireplace. In the middle of the room were a round dark wooden table, four stuffed armchairs and a couch, all held in red, much to Draco's dismay. There was a large window with view of the Quidditch field, four doors and a hole which would lead outside through a portrait in the walls. 

"I do hope that this provides all the privacy you require. The four doors each lead to a separate room with an adjoining bathroom for each of you. Those rooms are your private chambers and you can change them to your liking," Dumbledore explained, casting a small glance at Draco, who was still looking at his surroundings with a small amount of distaste. 

"This is magnificent," Hermione mumbled. Not even during her time as Head Girl had she had so much luxury. At least now she did not have to share a bathroom with Malfoy like she had to in seventh year. She only remembered all too well how she had walked into him as he had just gotten out of the shower, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. She had not been able to look at him for a week without having to blush. He himself had only used this chance to taunt her even more than before.

"I'm glad that you are satisfied with your quarters, but now I will retreat and leave you some time to rest. Just come to my office, when you think you are ready to continue our conversation. I'll be waiting for you." Giving them one last reassuring smile, the Headmaster turned to leave through the portrait. "Before I forget - the password to your quarters is _Future's past_. If you want to change it, just tap the portrait twice with your wand and tell it the new password." He pulled the portrait aside and stepped out of the room, leaving the four of them alone. 

"Well then… Goodnight…" Harry said curtly and disappeared behind the first door. The room behind the door was rather large with a Gryffondor-colored four-poster bed at the wall in the middle of the room. A desk stood next to the bed and in front of the window, so that he had a perfect view of the Forbidden Forest and Hagrid's hut. On the other side of the bed was a large cupboard and in the other wall a door which led to the bathroom. But Harry was too tired to check this out and just laid down on the bed, after he had pulled off his boots, taken off his cloak and closed the curtains around his bed. He was asleep as soon as his head had hit the pillow.

~*~

Back in the common room, Ron was staring at the door, having a confused look on his face. "What was this about?"

"When you don't know, you're really as thick as I always thought you were, Weasley," Draco snarled. "Whatever. I could also use some sleep. See ya later." With that, he went through the fourth door. 

"Hermione, please don't tell me, you also know what's going on…"

Hermione sighed. "Really, Ron. Don't you see? First the battle against Voldemort, and I think that Harry really thought it would finally end that night, then the spell, seeing Sirius again and most of all, meeting for the first time in his life his father and the reaction both of them had and then the whole prospect of probably never being able to get back and finish what he had started. I think he's just completely physically and emotionally drained and needs some time to recover." She barely suppressed a yawn. "We should follow his and Draco's example and get some sleep. We have no idea how exhausting the following days, weeks or even months could become. Goodnight, Ron."

Slightly taking aback by what Hermione had said, he just watched her disappear behind the third door, leaving the second bedroom for him. How come he had not understood that before, when it was all so clear? Maybe he was still just too confused about this whole thing, after all, Harry had not been the only one who had seen members of his family. Ron still felt his heart sink, when he remembered the look his mother had given him. She had looked at him as if he were just some filth who had wanted to hurt her and her family. But when he thought about this more, he could sympathize with her. She did not know that he was her son and there _had been_ an attack planned on them. But the same applied for the Marauders and their reaction to Harry. Shaking his head, he crossed the room and went through the door to the last free bedroom. He was too exhausted to have any more complicated and coherent thoughts. Maybe everything would become clearer, when they all had enough sleep.

************************************************************************************

I know, again a short chapter and again much dialog, but this is necessary, because there are some things that must be discussed. I also know that the H/D situation that Hermione remembered was pretty much cliché, but I couldn't resist. 

Hope you liked it and hope you leave plenty of reviews!

Eternally yours

ChibiChibi


	6. Job offer

**Chapter 6: Job offer**

When Harry awoke, he felt slightly disoriented. For one short moment he had the feeling as if he were in the Gryffindor dorm, but then realized that, yes, he was at Hogwarts, but no, he was not in the dorm of the Gryffindor Tower. As a matter of fact, he did not even know which part of the castle their chambers were in. 

Suddenly wide-awake, he pulled the curtains open and left the bed. When he stretched, he noticed that he was still wearing his torn clothes from the day before. He sniffed the air and grimaced, thinking that a shower would not be the worst idea, and went through the door that led to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, when Harry emerged from the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist, he felt completely refreshed and ready for everything the world, or rather, this time, might throw at him. Disgustedly, he threw his destroyed robes over the chair in his room and then noticed new clothes and black robes on his now made bed. He shook his head smiling. He would never tell Hermione how much he missed the service of the House Elves in his life after Hogwarts.

After having changed into the clean clothes, he left his bedroom, hoping to find his friends already waiting for him. When he stepped into the common room however, he found it completely deserted. So, either his friends were still sleeping or already gone. Harry doubted the latter, so he assumed that they must have been even more exhausted than he had been and were still happily snoring away.

But he had not the patience to wait. Waiting would result in thinking and thinking would result in having dark thoughts that he would rather not have. He needed to do something, something to keep his mind off things like that, something like… His gaze had wandered out of the window and stopped on the Quidditch field. 

Harry felt the wind rush past his face and he could not help but smile brightly, as he soared up and down on the _borrowed_ broomstick. It was just an old school broom, really old in his opinion, because his own Firebolt, which he still held dear, even though there were already much better broomsticks on the market, would not be invented for another thirteen years or so. He did not even know the brand of the broomstick he was now using, but it was better than nothing. It had been a really long time since he last had the chance to fly for fun. Flying at neck breaking speed and performing incredible stunts had always helped him to relax. He would just forget everything around him and enjoy this feeling of freedom.

~*~

James Potter was sitting at his wife's side in the hospital wing, looking down at her sleeping form and the sleeping baby in the small crib next to her bed. He still could not believe it. He was a father. He had a son. Those last nine months he had been looking forward to this moment and now that the baby was really born… It was beautiful – his son was beautiful. The small feet, the small hands, the unruly mass of black locks on his head that were so much like his own and the green eyes that he had inherited from Lily. He could not wait to see his son make his first steps, hear him say his first words, see his reaction when he receives his first Hogwarts letter and see how his son grows to become a man.

James only hoped that this would happen in a world, where they would not have to fear a Death Eater attack any moment. He wanted his son to grow up in a world free of Death Eaters and free of Voldemort and he would do anything to make this work. 

After wiping a strand of red hair from his wife's face, he got up and walked over to the windows. Ever since he had spent his first night in the hospital wing – which had been a quite reoccurring event, due to several accidents during Quidditch matches and training and also _other accidents_ – he had grown to love the view he had. He had always tried to choose a bed at a window, so that he could have a clear view over the Quidditch field. He had loved to watch other teams train and had used this chance to analyze their moves for the coming matches. This was the reason why most of those strange _accidents_ happened that had put him there, this and the fact that he would not need to go to classes.

But this was the past and as much as he wished that things would still be as easy as they had been there, he could not go back. Going back in time and making some things different or better, or maybe just reliving the best moments, was only wishful thinking. The Time Turner could only be used to go back a couple of hours and it was also illegal to use this to change the past. His main concern at the moment were those four strangers. He did not believe that they were innocent and he could not understand how Dumbledore could assume this. They were hiding something and he, James Potter, would find out what it was!

The sun was already setting and James slowly started to feel more and more tired. He had just nodded off now and then at his wife's side, but other than that, he had not slept for more than thirty hours. So he first thought that his eyes were betraying him, when he saw the black blur zooming back and forth, up and down on the Quidditch field.

He rubbed his eyes and readjusted his glasses, before he took another look. There was indeed someone out flying, but who would be here at Hogwarts at this time of the year? Sirius had told him a couple of hours ago that Dumbledore had offered the strangers to stay at Hogwarts as long as they wished to, but could it really be one of them? He squinted against the upcoming darkness and focused on the figure on the broom. He could make out the long black hair their leader was sporting and scowled. What was he doing out there? Who had given him this broom?

James turned around sharply and left the hospital wing in a hurry. It was time for answers!

~*~

Harry did not know how much time had passed since he had mounted the broom nor did he care. He only knew that it had been a really long time since he last had that much fun and only vaguely registered that the sun was already setting. First when he saw some movement on the ground, he stopped. Due to the darkness, he could not recognize the person and decided it would be better to find out who it was, before he got into trouble. Maybe he _should have_ asked someone before simply taking a broom. 

One last time Harry used everything the broom had to give and sped down at an amazing speed, before he softly touched the ground. First then did he recognize the person he had seen. He would have expected anything from facing Mr. Filch to a disgruntled flying instructor, but now that he was facing James Potter yet again, he did not know how to react.

Harry dismounted the broom and tried to hold the gaze with his father, who was glaring at him. 

James did not know what kind of reaction he had expected from this stranger, but he was surprised by this one. It seemed as if this young man, who had been so bold only a couple of hours ago, was suddenly being intimidated by him. So maybe now he would get some answers.

"What are you doing here?" He noticed how the young man's gaze flickered to the broom and back to him. Then something in his green eyes hardened and his back straightened. 

"Flying. Is that a crime?" After having first been surprised, he now had gotten his confidence back.

"Who gave you the broom?"

"No one. I took it with every intention of bringing it back."

"Does Dumbledore know that you are here?"

Harry shrugged. "Doesn't he always know what's going on in his school?"

"You seem to know a lot about Hogwarts." James eyed him suspiciously. "But I'm sure that I have never seen you here before. You must be what? Four, five years younger than me? That means that I must have, if not known, at least seen you at Hogwarts."

"James, this is enough," Dumbledore's firm voice interrupted him. The Headmaster had appeared a few feet next to them seemingly out of nowhere, now wearing dark purple robes and hat. He cast an amused glance at the broom in Harry's hand and then back at the two young men – father and son. Now that he had the chance to compare them directly, he had to admit that the resemblance was astonishing. Even though the younger of the two was wearing his raven hair longer and had Lily's eyes, he was an exact image of his father. He wondered when James or one of his friends would see this. He turned to Harry, trying to avoid speaking his name. "Your friends have awoken and are now waiting for you in my office."

"Sorry," Harry mumbled. "I didn't realize how late it already is."

"No need to be sorry. I understand that one has to relax from time to time." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at him knowingly. "Oh, and James. Lily asked about your whereabouts. It seems as if you disappeared quite sudden."

James grinned slightly sheepish at his old Headmaster and ran a hand through his already unruly hair. "Then I think it's better when I go back to her." He shot one more glare at Harry, before he returned to the hospital wing.

When James was finally gone, Harry released a deep breath. "Thank you, Headmaster," he sighed. "I did not know that he could be that _insistent_."

"Did you not…" The twinkle in his eyes had become stronger again, as if he knew something he found humorous and it unnerved Harry slightly. "Whatever, I think we should not let your friends wait any longer, don't you think?"

~*~

Harry followed Dumbledore through the halls of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, after he had brought the broom back, to the old Headmaster's office. Not that he would not have found it by himself. He had, after all, walked through these hallways quite often during his school years and spent way too much time in Dumbledore's chambers.

After having taken numerous turns and having climbed several of the moving stairs, they stopped in front of the gargoyle that was guarding the entrance to the office. Dumbledore gave it the password (chocolate chip cookies) and the door to the spiral staircase that would lead up to the office itself opened. Harry walked after Dumbledore up the stairs and stepped behind him through the last door.

There were four comfortable chairs in front of the Headmaster's desk, of which three were already occupied by Ron, Hermione and Draco. Harry smiled at them apologizing and slid into the last one, while Ron was grinning, Draco smirking and Hermione was giving him her well-known look of disapproval. Harry, feeling slightly as if he were back in school and he and Ron had yet again broken some school rules, grinned back. 

Dumbledore watched this exchange amused and sat down as well. They reminded him a lot of the Marauders, though they were unique in their own way. "Lemon drop?" They shook their heads in unison. "Not? Well, then I think it is time to move on to more serious matters. While you were resting, I did some research on the spell that Voldemort used on you and when you first mentioned it, I thought it was familiar, and indeed, I found many references to this spell, but mostly in history books.

According to those books, a dark wizard, who wanted to use it to get some of his enemies out of his way without having to engage them in a real fight, invented this spell about five hundred years ago. It was only cast by him once or twice and then never again, because there hadn't been another wizard for five hundred years with this kind of power. There are two facts known of this spell. The first is that this spell transports everyone it is cast upon to the past, but not like the Time Turner. It is written that the spell Proferre Tempus creates a new timeline so that whatever influence the travelers have on the future events, it would not change anything in the present of the caster."

"Excuse me, Professor," Hermione interrupted him. "But does this mean that our appearance here doesn't affect the time we came from, but that by coming here, we actually only change what is going to happen in _this_ time?"

"Sorry, but I don't understand what you are talking about," Ron mumbled, shaking his head. 

"Really Weasley, sometime I don't know if you're really that stupid or if you just act like this. What they mean is that if we killed Voldemort here in this time, he would still be alive in the time we originally come from. It's really not that hard to understand," Malfoy sneered at him.

Dumbledore noticed the strange look that passed Harry's face for the split of a second, but wisely ignored it. "Both Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy are right. No matter what you do in this time, it will not change anything in your present. The other fact is, and I regret it deeply to have to be the one to tell you this, that up until now there is no way known to send the time travelers back to their time."

"This can't be true!" Harry suddenly yelled. "There has to be a way! I can't just stay here while Voldemort is still out there in our time with no one to stop him!"

Dumbledore looked at the young man sympathetically. In contrary to the young man's friends it seemed, he knew what this meant and why he was so upset. "Mr. Potter, I know that this comes to you as a shock, but I promise you that I will do anything in my power to help you. My guess is that no counter spell has been found because no one has been looking for it. Maybe we even find a way to return you to the exact moment he had cast this spell."

"And what do you suppose we could do now?" Hermione asked, still a bit taken aback by this sudden revelation. She was, however, sure that Dumbledore would stay true to his word. She never had had any reason not to trust him, so why should she doubt him now? Ron and Draco seemed to be thinking along the same lines. It was Harry she was worried about. She remembered the changes in him that had started in their sixth year, after Sirius death. At first, she had been happy about his newly won dedication to studying, but later her worries had gotten stronger and stronger. It almost seemed as if Harry wanted to be the one to defeat Voldemort once and for all. Of course, she could understand him, but she also could not forget that other people had lost family and friends because of the Dark Lord, too. Harry did not seem to think so, because his striving to become better and better so that he would be ready, when he was to face Voldemort, had become an obsession, leaving almost no time for fun. She had hoped for so long that they would finally defeat the Dark Lord so that Harry could start living again. She wanted the old Harry, her old friend back, though she knew that he would never be the same again after the war. 

"Well, while you are staying here, I would like to offer you some jobs here at Hogwarts. Due to the war and retirements, I fear that I'm in desperate need for some new professors in the coming school year. Does anyone of you have any teaching experience?"

"Mmh," Hermione nervously fidgeted with her hands. "In my time I teach Transfiguration here at Hogwarts." 

Dumbledore raised one eyebrow, but kept his questions for himself. They would tell him what he needed to know when they thought that the time was right. "Very good, Miss Granger. So Minerva would be able to help more in the war. Would you also take over the responsibility of being Head of Gryffindor?"

"I'd love to." Hermione beamed at the Headmaster, grateful that she would be able to do something she knew she would be good at.

"I'm glad that you're satisfied. Mr. Weasley, I also need a new flying instructor, since the last one retired last year."

"Sounds good," Ron sighed with relief. "Do you maybe also need Defence Against Dark Arts teachers? Because both Harry and Malfoy would be qualified for this job. Both of them are Aurors, and good ones at that, and Harry already taught his fellow students in a defence club from fifth to seventh year."

"So, did he? Fortunately, the spot is open, as well as the position as potion teacher and Head of Slytherin House. But I would also like to hear what Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy think about this." Dumbledore's eyes again held the infamous twinkle in his eyes.

Draco scowled. "Teaching with Potter? Never!" When he noticed the looks the others were giving him, he heaved a sigh. "With all due respect, Sir, but Potter and I barely manage not to kill each other during our missions, so I don't think that we should teach together. However, the position as potion teacher sounds interesting, as well as Head of Slytherin. I can assure you that I received an O in potion in my NEWTs and I was in Slytherin myself. So that leaves the spot as defence teacher for Potter."

"Very well," Dumbledore smiled at them. "Mr. Potter?"

"I have nothing to say, except 'thank you', Headmaster. I don't know how we could ever repay you for your generosity."

"You could repay me by doing a good job and teach your students everything they need to know. There is, however, one more matter that needs to be discussed. It's about your identities. I don't think that it would be a problem for Miss Granger to use her real name and I'm sure that Mr. Weasley could easily pass as one long-lost member of the Weasley family, even though I think that we should let Arthur in on your true identity, so that he could confirm that you're a Weasley."

Ron swallowed hard, but nodded in agreement. 

"Good… Mr. Potter, when you agree, I would also like to let your father in on this. He's still very suspicious of you and sooner or later will find out the truth anyway. This would also enable you to keep your name, as he could also say that you're a cousin of him or something."

"Okay, I guess." Harry had a bad feeling about this. Not especially about that his father knew who he was, but more about the questions that were bound to come and to which Harry would not know how to answer. How do you tell your parents that they would die?

"Now that leaves Mr. Malfoy… I think you do understand the necessity of changing your name. It is common knowledge that your father allied himself with Voldemort and if it reaches him that a Malfoy is teaching at Hogwarts he would surely send someone to investigate and we cannot risk that the knowledge that Hogwarts harbors a couple of time travelers leaves these walls. Do you have any suggestions?"

"As a matter of fact, I have…" Draco ignored the surprised looks the others were giving him and continued with a smug smile on his face. Did they really think that he had not thought about this? "I was thinking about Eirian Draconis. Eirian is my middle name and means silver. And I chose Draconis as last name, so that my companions could still get away with calling me Draco. They only have to be careful about calling me Malfoy," he said this while throwing a side-glance at Ron, who was still having the hardest time accepting Malfoy into their group. So Draco treated him with the same hostility he received from the redhead. 

"Very well, Eirian Draconis. We will have a staff meeting tomorrow and then I will introduce you to the other professors." Dumbledore looked at the fireplace in his office thoughtfully. "But now we should call Arthur Weasley and James Potter and inform them about the current situation."

Ron and Harry looked at each other, both thinking the same – how would their fathers react?


	7. Interlude

**_FYI: This is not a new chapter! I only uploaded this new, because I needed to delete the following chapter to revise it completely!_**

**A/N: Okay, just a really short chapter, because I did not want to let you guys wait any longer! Have fun!**

**Chapter 7: Interlude**

Hermione watched her friends apprehensively, as Dumbledore went to the fireplace to call Arthur Weasley and James Potter over to his office. Ron was pretty pale around his nose, making his freckles even more prominent, and he was gripping onto the armrests as if his life depended on it, while Harry's whole body was tensed. He tried not to show it, as always, his expression was one of complete calm, but in the ten years they had known each other, Hermione had learned to read him, maybe not like an open book, but so that she could at least interpret the mood he was in. The slight twitch in his otherwise so still fingers gave him away.

They did not hear what Dumbledore was exactly saying through the fireplace. He had started with the Burrow and had moved on to the hospital wing of Hogwarts. Her eyes widened with realization. Was James staying here at the castle? Was this the place where Harry was born? But that must mean that Lily must also be here. Harry did not look that surprised at this revelation, so either he was just able to conceal any emotion on his face or he already knew about it. Hermione's eyes got even wider, when she finally added one and one. She had seen someone flying around the Quidditch field and due to the fact that Harry's face had been slightly flushed and his hair even more mussed than before, she had assumed that it had been him. Had he and James had yet another run in? Was this how he knew that they were staying at Hogwarts?

She was pulled out of her thoughts, when Dumbledore's head emerged again from the fireplace and he turned to them with a serious but still gentle look on his face. "Arthur and James will arrive here in about thirty minutes. Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy, sorry, Mister Draconis, I would advise you to return to your chambers, where you will find some dinner for you. I'm sure that it will be better for Mister Potter and Mister Weasley to face their fathers alone. As for you," he turned to Harry and Ron, "I think thirty minutes are enough time for you to also have some dinner. Please sit down." With a wave of his wand, Albus Dumbledore had conjured a round table, already set with several kinds of food, and three chairs around it.

"Of course, Professor." Hermione got up, motioning for Draco to follow her. Harry and Ron also rose from their chairs and Hermione used the chance to throw herself at both of them to engulf them in an embrace. "Everything will be okay. I'll wait up for you." She smiled at them reassuringly, which the two young men tried to return.

Before they left the office, however, Draco turned back. "Potter, Weasley, good luck."

The door closed behind him and Harry and Ron were alone with Dumbledore. The Headmaster of Hogwarts sat down in a chair and they followed his lead. Like Dumbledore, Ron immediately began piling food on his plate – that would give him something to do to keep his mind of the meeting, but Harry just stared at his plate with a sick feeling his stomach. He wondered how Ron could stomach something in a situation like this, while he was having the same feeling in his stomach that he had already had before his first Quidditch match in his first year. He almost smiled at the irony of this. Here he was, waiting to meet his father _properly_ and he was comparing the situation with his first Quidditch match. How much did he wish that he would right now be in that situation – at least things had still been much more uncomplicated then.

Harry noticed how his fingers twitched again. He threw one last disgusted look at the food in front of him and then stood up. "If you excuse me, Professor, I need to get some fresh air." Briskly walking out of the office, Harry did not notice the confused look on Dumbledore's face.

"Mister Weasley, I understand if you wanted to follow your friend. He seemed a bit upset."

"Don't worry, Professor," Ron assured him between some bites. "He's not upset, just a bit edgy. I think that we all are, but Harry has a lot more on his plate than the rest of us. If there's one thing that we've learned in our friendship, then that we all deal differently with things the world throws at us. Harry only needs some solitude to calm down and think things over. Could you pass the meat-balls, please?"

"Of course." The professor handed him the bowl and looked at the young man curiously and wondered not for the first time that day what those four young people had gone through in their time. They were much more mature than most people their age and the friendship between them was strong – especially between Harry, Hermione and Ron. It seemed that Draco Malfoy had joined this group at a later date and that there was a strong dislike between him and young Mr. Weasley, while Harry and Hermione were doing their best to integrate him into their group.

He shook his head. He should not wonder about things that did not concern him, yet. He should more worry about how James and Arthur were going to react to this sudden revelation that two of the four newcomers were their sons.

* * *

Harry stormed down the spiral staircase, past the gargoyle and went a few steps until he stopped in front of an open window. He pushed his hands into his pocket as if searching for something and groaned, when he remembered that these were new robes and that what he was looking for had been in his old ones. Running a hand through his hair he thought about what he could do now. He desperately needed a fag to calm his nerves. Suddenly he spotted a small stone lying on the windowsill and whipped out his wand. A second later, the stone was transfigured into a cigarette. Also using magic to light it, he took a long deep drag and exhaled the smoke, immediately feeling some of the tension leaving him.

This day was really bad and almost continuously spiraling downwards so that it almost could not get worse. Okay, there had been a few highlights, like Dumbledore accepting them into the school, but mostly things had not been great for him and his friends. He also worried about his other friends in the future. Had they been able to at least force Voldemort to retreat or had his friends run away? Had they gotten away unscathed or were there losses? Whatever had happened, without him they would not be able to defeat Voldemort. He knew it and Dumbledore knew it, or rather both Dumbledores.

Harry leaned against the cool glass of the window, soothing the light stinging in his scar. He would need to tell Dumbledore about his connection to Voldemort and if it meant anything in this time. He needed to find out, if this Voldemort was also able to feel this connection or if it was just one-sided, since he had not attacked him yet. This would work for their advantage. Maybe he should also tell his friends. They thought that the link was gone, but did not know that it had only needed some time to reestablish itself with the Voldemort of this timeline. But he did not want them to worry about that – they had enough to worry about in the current situation and Harry did not want to add to that pile.

At least the problem of what they were going to do now was solved. Teaching at Hogwarts… He would have never thought that he would live to see that. Hermione seemed to have been positively happy that she could teach again and he was glad that she was happy. Teaching gave her something to do, some normalcy in this crazy situation. Ron was lucky that the spot for the flying instructor had been open, but Harry already felt sorry for the kids that had to take potions. He could not imagine that Draco would be any nicer in class than Snape had ever been. The Slytherin reputation needed to be kept up, after all. However, Harry was a bit unsure about teaching the kids Defense Against Dark Arts. Of course had he already taught his fellow classmates, but he did not think that he was suited for educating small children. Well, he would see how good he really was, when classes started in one month and at least the kids would not look at him like he was some sort of celebrity. For the first time in his life he would not be The Boy Who Lived. Harry only needed to be careful to teach them spells and curses that had already been invented at that point - the best would be to stay as close to the curriculum as possible.

But maybe, maybe he would be able to change something in this time, so that the people here would have a better future. He would need to think about it, if he wanted to risk it. Even though Dumbledore had said that, with their appearance in this time, they had created an alternate timeline, they still could not know for sure, so it was better to be safe than sorry.

"You do know that smoking is forbidden in the whole castle."

Harry had been wrong, when he had thought that the day could not get worse. It just had. Sighing, he extinguished his cigarette on the stone and turned the owner of the voice. "You worry too much over things that don't concern you at all. If the Headmaster doesn't want me to smoke here, I'm sure he'll tell me."

James Potter stepped into the light of one of the torches at the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. "And you're too bold for your own good. I guess Dumbledore called me because of you and your companions, though I couldn't fathom, why…"

Harry had to hide a smirk, as he shrugged. Even though his father had good reasons to distrust him and treat him with this kind of hostility, he could not help but looking forward to see his face when he got to know the truth. "Are the thirty minutes up already?"

"Not yet. But I was curious as to why Dumbledore wanted to see me at this hour, so I hurried a bit."

"Well then, I don't want to keep you waiting. Maybe the Headmaster's other guest had also arrived in the meantime." Harry stepped aside to the still open stairs of the gargoyle. "After you." Glaring at the younger man, James walked past him, but glancing back to make sure that he followed. Harry, however, did not know if he should laugh or groan at his father's antics. His stomach started to twist again and he felt the nervousness growing even stronger. This was promising to get interesting.


	8. Fathers and Sons

**A/N: Okay, after having pondered on this chapter most of the night, thinking that it was not exactly what I wanted it to be, and after having read Luinthoron's review, I decided to (almost) completely revise this chapter, so if you had read the older version before, I would suggest you to read this, since I made some major changes! Also thanks a lot Luinthoron for the constructive comment – it made me see that you should never just write because your readers are urging you on to write and also to never write, when you're tired! grins**

**And now, have fun with the new chapter 8!**

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**Chapter 8: Fathers and sons**

"Granger, stop pacing. It's annoying." Back in the common room of the four time travelers, Draco was sitting in one of the stuffed armchairs and chewed on a chicken wing, one of the many kinds of food that the house-elves had brought them, while reading the Evening Prophet that had come with the food. The headline on the front page read _Several Death Eater Attacks Prevailed_ and he seemed to be quite engrossed in the article. This, however, did not keep him from noticing Hermione, who was literally about to run a hole in the red carpet and had not even spared a glance at her plate on the table.

The young woman threw a frustrated glare at the Slytherin and put her hands on her hips. "How can you be so calm?" she asked him. "It's now only a couple of minutes until Harry and Ron meet their fathers and…"

"Exactly, it's Potter and Weasley who'll meet their fathers. It's not you and it's not me. So calm down!" Annoyed, he turned his attention back to the newspaper and turned to the next page. He just wanted to start reading the new paragraph, when it was torn out of his hands. "Hey!"

"In case you haven't noticed, Malfoy, Harry and Ron are my friends. So it's only natural that I'm nervous as well. Who knows how James and Arthur will react? What if they don't believe them? What if…"

Draco did not want to hear any more of this. He got up from the chair and gripped Hermione firmly at the upper arms. Startled, she let go of the newspaper, which fell to the floor. "Granger, listen. We don't know how they will react, but neither do Weasley and Potter. They are about to find out and there's nothing you or I could do to help them now. The only thing you can do now is calm down, sit and eat something. I'm sure that they will tell you what has happened as soon as they step through the portrait. So, be reasonable and here, read." He let go of her arms, picked up the crumpled Prophet and gave it to her. "We are also mentioned."

Slightly stunned by Draco's outburst, Hermione nodded and sat down in the chair. She put some vegetables and meatballs on her plate and unfolded the newspaper on the right side of the plate. She did not notice Draco's somewhat amused gaze, as she immediately began to scan the lines of the article and seemingly absorbed every bit of information that she deemed important.

"This is not good," she mumbled, as she had finished the article of the attack. "Among the victims was also the family of Ministry worker Arthur Weasley. Fortunately, the attackers, three young men and one young woman, could be captured before any harm could be done and were interrogated by Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Professor Dumbledore however stated in an interview this afternoon that those four young people are innocent and in no way connected to the planned Death Eater attacks. If we can believe his words is doubtful, as the _Prophet_ knows from good authority that at least one of them bears the Dark Mark." Hermione closed the newspaper and looked at Draco with a worried expression on her face. "This is terrible. When the Ministry finds out that we're going to teach this year, they'll try to find a way to remove Dumbledore, I just know it."

"Stay calm, Granger. You know the old man. How often has anyone tried to remove Dumbledore from Hogwarts? Neither Lucius nor Fudge was ever successful, as Dumbledore always came back. Besides, they also did not suspend him, as he allowed Snape to teach here at Hogwarts, and he was a known Death Eater."

"I hope you're right," Hermione sighed. She rubbed her temples and threw a short glance at the clock over the entrance. The thirty minutes were up.

When Harry stepped through the door behind James, he could just see the fire in Dumbledore's fireplace flare up in a green light and Arthur Weasley stumbling out of it. Mr. Weasley got on his feet more or less gracefully and wiped the ash from his clothes. Harry used the time to stand next to Ron, who suddenly looked again a lot greener in the face. It reminded him of the one time in second year, when his friend's wand had backfired and he had to throw up slugs the whole afternoon, and he had to grin involuntarily. Thinking back to those happy times somehow helped him to relax, even if just a bit.

"Ah, James, Arthur, I'm glad that you could make it. And you're early, the half hour isn't even up yet," Albus Dumbledore greeted them. "Please sit down." The headmaster motioned with his head to two of the four chairs that were still standing in front of his desk from earlier that evening.

"No, thank you, Albus," James said, the whole time eyeing Harry and Ron rather suspiciously. "I'd rather stand."

"Me, too, Albus," Arthur agreed, also looking at the two young men.

"Sherbet lemon? No?" Dumbledore asked, when all four of them shook their heads. "Well then, I think we can begin. I'm sure you ask yourself, what you're doing here…"

"I'm sure it's about those two, isn't it."

"Indeed, it is, James. But I think that what I'm going to tell you now is what you would least expect. Are you sure you don't want to sit down?" When the four men again shook their heads, Dumbledore's face turned serious. "Good, but first of all I must express that it is important that what you're going to hear now will not leave my office. Well, I can make an exception, you are allowed to tell your wives, if you wish to, as this matter concerns them as much as it does concern you, but no one else." Saying this, he threw a small glance at James, knowing fully well that he would want to tell his friends about it.

"Excuse me, Albus," Arthur interjected with a thoughtful expression on his face. "Please tell me, if I'm wrong, but aren't they two of the four young people that were captured near my home?"

"You are right, Arthur. But believe me when I tell you that they just got there through the must unfortunate circumstances. You see, those four young people are not from around here, in the broadest sense."

"But then, where are they from?" James demanded to know. He clenched his fist tightly around his wand, poised to act if one of those two strangers dared to do something stupid. He did not trust them, not at all and especially the black haired one was unnerving him. There was something about him, he just could not put his finger on it.

"Hey, 'they' are standing right here!" Ron said angrily.

Harry put a calming hand on his friend's shoulder and looked at Dumbledore. The headmaster nodded at him and Harry turned to his father and the father of a couple of his friends. "We're from the future," he said softly, in the hope that this might ease the blow.

The look on their father's faces was priceless and if the situation were not so severe, Ron and Harry probably would have burst out laughing. However, so they only exchanged a small grin, partly because of the faces but also due to the fact that now a part of the truth was out.

"They must be lying!" James almost yelled. Again Harry had to hide a grin. Now he knew whom he could thank for his temper.

Dumbledore looked at him sternly over his half-moon glasses, though he could not suppress a small twinkle in his eyes that betrayed that he found the situation at least a bit amusing. "I assure you James, that they are not lying. James, Arthur, may I introduce you to Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, your sons?"

"I knew you reminded me of someone," Arthur Weasley mumbled and walked up to Ron. "I should have noticed before that you have all the typical Weasley features. Well Ron, it's nice to meet you, I mean, the adult-you."

Arthur excitedly extended his hand, which Ron gave a wary glance, before shaking it. The younger Weasley let out a quiet sigh of relief. Who would have thought that his father would accept the fact that his son from the future was standing in front of them just like that? He did not. Ron quickly let his eyes wander to James Potter, whose glare would kill them, if it were possible. It seemed that he was luckier than Harry, who probably was about to face a large challenge to convince his father that they were not lying.

After they both had let go, Arthur turned to Harry with a similar eager expression as he had had when he had first met Harry shortly before their second year, when Ron, Fred and George had rescued him from the Dursleys. "So, Harry, James' son, huh? Nice to meet you, too. Molly and I wanted to come to Hogwarts tomorrow to see your baby-self, but seeing you and Ron grown up is quite a surprise. And you're friends?" At Harry's stunned nod – he had somehow known that Ron's father would be able to digest this information rather quickly, but that he was already this friendly and forthcoming was rather unexpected - he turned to James. "Hey James, who would have believed that? Our sons, standing here before us!"

"I don't," James said simply. "I need proof. This story about time traveling is a bit too farfetched for my liking."

"Oh, come on," Arthur said smiling. "Don't you see the resemblance? If his hair were a bit shorter, he would look almost exactly like you, only with Lily's eyes."

"Albus?" James turned to the headmaster, who had a light smile tugging at his lips. He desperately longed for an explanation for this, or for something that might disprove what Dumbledore had just told them. This young man cannot be his son, he just can't! His son was in the hospital wing with his wife, still a baby and not a young man with a scar on his forehead, a scar on his right cheek and eyes that betrayed that they had already seen too much. He had promised himself that his son would grow up in a world free of Voldemort, free of Death Eaters and free of anything that might let him grow up too fast, so this young man cannot be his son. Maybe an imposter, trying to get into Dumbledore's inner circle with this ridiculous story and the old headmaster appeared to believe them! _This man was not his son!_ And he, James Potter, would find the proof for that! "I'm sorry, Albus, but I don't believe a word of this. I'm out of here!" With a short apologizing nod towards the headmaster, he turned around to leave the office, but stopped shortly next to Arthur Weasley. "If I were you, I would be careful around them," he whispered into his ear. "Remember, you have six sons you have to care for and don't forget about Molly. I would hate to tell her that you fell into a trap of Voldemort and that I warned you about it. See you tomorrow."

Dumbledore sighed, as he watched James closing the door to the office behind him. He had been able to hear the distress in the young man's voice, almost an imploration to tell him that this was only a joke. He knew this young man all too well to guess his thoughts and it somehow comforted him to know that, even if it was somewhere deep down, James had come to accept that it was indeed his son standing in front of him. He now only needed this to be confirmed. Only what it was that would convince him, he did not know. Maybe it was only time, but maybe, maybe it was something completely different. "I apologize for his rude behavior, especially to you, Mr. Potter. It must be hard for you to not be accepted by your father, when your friend was so much easier accepted."

Harry shook his head. Even though he was disappointed, he could understand James' reasons perfectly. Was it not only a couple of hours ago that he himself had thought that Dumbledore was a fraud, only playing the role of the great wizard, to lure them into a feeling of safety. It had only been the prophecy that had convinced him, both of them as a matter of fact, that they were on the same side. "You don't need to apologize, Professor. I understand him."

"Indeed, Mr. Potter, indeed. I suggest you wait until he had some time to digest that news and calm down and then you seek to speak to him privately."

"I will, Professor…"

"I'm sorry, if I'm interrupting somehow…" Arthur said quietly. "But I'm curious as to why you've traveled back in time. Is there something you have to warn us against?"

"No, Arthur, there isn't," the Headmaster informed him. "Voldemort used a spell on them during a battle that brought them back."

"Voldemort? He's still alive in your time?" he asked shocked.

"He is," Harry answered. "But for a couple of years he was believed to be defeated for good, until one loyal Death Eater revived him. I don't want to go too much into detail right now, as I'm still not sure if we have any influence on this timeline." This was, however, only one reason to tell them about Voldemorts fall and resurrection. He still did not know if it would be a good idea to tell them that his parents would die in about 15 months and it also still hurt to think about the fight in the cemetery, about Cedric Diggory's useless death.

"Young Mister Potter is right," Dumbledore said. "I think we should leave further questions for later. For now I want to discuss another matter with you." The headmaster told the one remaining father about the plan that would enable Ron and Harry to keep their names. Arthur immediately agreed to confirm that Ron was a distant cousin and that he and his friends found out about the open teaching spots at Hogwarts through him. They also agreed on telling everybody who wanted to know that they had had only contact through owl-post and therefore had not recognized the young people, who had unfortunately arrived at the same time the attack had been planned, thus mistaking them as Death Eaters.

"I still have one question, though," the older Weasley said. "Your two friends, who are they, and why does one of them bear the Dark Mark?"

Harry and Ron looked at each other and Harry decided to explain. "They are Hermione Granger and our other friend goes by Eirian Draconis. He doesn't want his name to be known since it could lead to… difficulties. Hermione is a muggle-born witch, the best of our year and Eirian was a Death Eater and a spy for our side."

"I see…" Arthur mumbled thoughtfully.

"Well, well… It's already pretty late again and there is a staff meeting tomorrow morning after breakfast. Besides, Arthur, I don't want to keep you any longer from your family. I'm sure you can have the father-son-talk at a later date."

"Of course." Arthur, who had sat down during Dumbledore's explanation, stood up again and put his hat on his head. "Ron, I'll have to bring you home sometime. I'm sure that Molly will be thrilled to meet her baby boy." He winked at him.

"But Arthur, remember… You may only tell your wife and no one else may know about this."

"I understand." He grabbed some floo powder, stepped into the flames and after naming his destination (the Burrow), he was gone.

When the fire had returned to its normal color, Harry and Ron slumped into their chairs. "Well, that was not too bad, wasn't it?" Ron asked his friend. "I mean, at least one of our fathers did easily accept us.

"Yeah," Harry said tiredly. "I only wonder what my father will do now… I hope he does not parade around to tell everyone he meets about this."

"Don't worry, he won't," Dumbledore told them. "But if it will help you, I will talk to him about it. I will then also mention what Arthur agreed on, so that you'll have no problem to keep your name. But now, it's late and you should head back to your chambers to tell your friends… Breakfast is from eight to ten and the staff meeting begins at half past ten."

"Okay, we'll tell the others…" Harry said. "Professor Dumbledore, again thank you for everything you're doing for us." A small, grateful lit up his face, which Dumbledore returned with a nod.

* * *

After having said goodnight, Ron and Harry were on their way back to their rooms. Once there and inside, they saw Hermione lying on the sofa, fast asleep and Draco sitting in an armchair near the fireplace, reading a book. He turned around, when he heard the noise of the portrait closing, and walked up to them. "Be quiet, she fell asleep about half an hour ago after having paced almost the whole time before. How was it?" he whispered.

"It was… well, partly good," Harry said with a half-smile. "Ron's dad believed us, though it seems that my father needs some more time. Should we wake her?" he asked, motioning with his head towards Hermione.

Draco shook his head. "Let's wait until tomorrow. You can tell us the exact details before breakfast, not that I'm interested, of course."

"Okay." Harry smirked and then briefly told him what Dumbledore had said about breakfast and the staff meeting and then they each went into their own rooms, leaving Hermione in the common room on the couch.


	9. Friends and Colleages

**A/N:    **So, it's me again… It's been a long, long time and I'm incredible sorry for the wait. The last two weeks in school had been hell, I've almost been studying 24/7 so there had absolutely been no time to write or doing anything else. And then last weekend my grandpa became 85 years old and we had my aunt, my cousin and his almost four years old daughter as visitor and his daughter immediately adopted me as her big sister, so again, I had no time to write. But _'fortunately'_ I sprained my knee last Thursday and am therefore not allowed to go to work and what do you think I can use all this free time for? Of course, getting my stories up-to-date, starting with this one!

            I know the title for this chapter isn't the best, but I did not know a better one. If you do, please tell me and I will consider replacing this one!

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**Chapter 9: Friends and Colleagues**

Harry Potter woke up to two well-known voices yelling at each other in the common room. Like he had done all the other times, whenever he had woken up to his friends fighting, he grabbed his wand to place a silencing charm on his room, so that he could go back to sleep undisturbed. This time, however, he thought better of it and placed it back on his nightstand, when he saw the sunlight shining through the curtains. Maybe he should get up after all, since it seemed that they would have a pretty busy day. Besides, Harry was kind of curious to find out, what had set them off this time.

Getting out of the bed and throwing his robe over his shoulders, he once again grabbed his wand (he never went anywhere without it anymore) and stepped through the door into the common room. There he saw them, with only a couple of feet between them, both faces flushed in a deep red color and panting heavily, as if they had been fighting physically and not verbally, in the middle of the common room. Hermione was sill wearing the clothes from the previous day and her hair was tousled from sleeping on the couch, whereas Ron was already fully dressed. Over their shouting match, they did not even notice Harry entering the common room and the Boy Who Lived looked around the room and saw Draco, who was also already wearing his robes, standing in the doorframe to his room with an amused expression on his face. Harry caught his gaze and gave him a questioning look, but Draco only smirked knowingly and motioned with his head towards the couch.

Harry smiled in understanding, even though he was sure that he would be on the receiving end of Hermione's tantrum as soon as she and Ron were done yelling at each other. But for now he was happy that Ron had Hermione's undivided attention and would wait until one of them said something that would force him to make his presence known.

He and Draco watched them going at each other for another couple of minutes, both somewhat amused at their never ending quarrel, until Hermione got enough and demanded, "Ron, I want to know what happened last night! How did your fathers react?"

"I can't tell you, Hermione. At least not yet. I want to wait until Harry is awake, because he's also a part of this and I don't want to tell you anything that Harry rather wants to tell you himself," Ron said, slowly growing desperate.

Taking this as his cue to finally step in, Harry said, "I'm awake. And by the way, it was Draco's idea to not wake you up and let you spend the night on the couch."

Hermione and Ron jumped around and looked at him startled. The smirk on Draco's face had suddenly disappeared, but instead of looking angry, Harry could almost swear that he was embarrassed, most likely at having been caught off guard like this. Hermione only shot Draco a quick glare, before turning her attention back to Harry, who had walked past them and sat down in one of the armchairs. She and Ron followed his example and Hermione looked at both of them expectantly, her expression alone telling them that she would not wait any longer.

"Come on, Ron, tell her what she wants to know," Harry told his friend with a small smirk on his face.

Ron nodded numbly, still a bit surprised that Harry had obviously listened to their row for at least a couple of minutes before he had stepped in, and then started to tell Hermione his side of the story, until Harry joined the explanation. Hermione listened quietly, only giving Harry a concerned look, when Ron mentioned that James still did not believe them and was shocked to notice that Harry's face remained emotionless the whole time. There was not even a flicker of emotion that might have betrayed what her best friend was feeling about this. She feared that Harry was on his best way to shut them, all of them, out, when he had just started to open up ever so slightly again shortly before this whole fiasco began.

After Ron had finished the tale with the information about breakfast and the staff meeting this morning, Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment, before she made up her mind and her expression became a determined one. "Okay, what we have to do now is: Get ready and then hurry to get some breakfast before the staff meeting starts. I can't believe we have slept for so long! It's already nine o'clock!"

"I think you forgot one small fact, Granger. You and Weasley have spent a good deal of the time arguing about not waking you up last night," Draco pointed out.

Hermione only glared again at him and said, "You and I, Malfoy, we'll talk later." She then turned to Ron and Harry, continuing to tell them about her plan. "We also need to make a good impression on the other teachers and then Harry needs to convince James of the truth, so that our secret will remain safe."

They all agreed, nodding at the first three steps, but when Hermione had told Harry what he had to do, his expression hardened and he got up without saying a word. He was halfway to his room, when Hermione also jumped up, but Ron grabbed her arm. "Leave him, 'Mione."

"But… Harry!" she called after him.

Harry stopped in the doorframe and not turning around, he said, "Don't worry, Hermione. I'm fine."

* * *

When Harry had closed the door behind him, he absent-mindedly rubbed his scar. It did not hurt, but Harry knew that it would only be a matter of time until it would hurt again. For once it seemed that as if he was getting a natural headache that was not caused by his connection to Voldemort, but instead caused by the pressure once again put upon him. If he were really like his father, as everyone always said, Harry knew he would have a hard time convincing him of the truth. Simple words just would not be enough to fulfill that task.

Shaking his head, he opened his drawer and took out some clean clothes, before he disappeared in the bathroom. There he took off his shirt, splashed some cold water into his face and looked into the mirror. The reflection greeting him was not one of a twenty-one years old. He thought that he looked even older as his father, but it might just be him. The two scars on his face looked somewhat dangerous and the other thin white lines on his torso only added to that look. He could barely remember when he had gotten those scars, at least one or two during his _adventures_ in the first six years at Hogwarts and the others he had gotten during the Battle of Hogwarts and his Auror training. Not even Madame Pomfrey or other skilled medi-witches and wizards were able to heal all wounds without leaving scars.

But what always scared him the most, when he was looking into a mirror, were his eyes. Those eyes had seen things that no one his age should have seen. Death, destruction, only to name some of them. He guessed that it were his eyes, that were making him look older than he really was. Emerald eyes, hardened with each emotional blow he had to suffer, with each other person, be it friend or stranger, that he had to watch die. Everyone always said that he had his mother's eyes – that was not true, not anymore. Her eyes were soft, his were not.

Harry ran a hand through his long unruly hair and smiled grimly. He hoped he would not scare any first or second years away with his looks, but when he thought about it, they had not been scared by Mad-Eye Moody, or rather Barty Crouch pretending to be Mad-Eye Moody, and he was looking much worse than Harry did. Well, if Harry kept on like this, maybe he would be able to give Alastor a run for his money – someday.

Sighing, Harry turned his gaze away from the mirror and stripped off his boxers. Maybe a hot shower would help to improve his mood and if not, he would just have to act the part.

* * *

When Harry stepped again into the common room twenty minutes later, the others were already waiting for him. He flashed Hermione a reassuring smile, as she glanced at him guiltily and lightened the mood by saying, "I don't know about you, but I'm starving. Let's see if the house-elves in this time are as good as the ones in our time." He grinned at Hermione's frown and walked towards the entrance of their chambers. Before he pulled the portrait aside, he turned to his friends. "Come on."

They easily found their way from their chambers to the Great Hall – it was as if they had never left Hogwarts. The four of them stopped in front of the large wooden doors, shortly glancing at each other, before Ron motioned for Harry to open them. Inside of the Great Hall was instead of the four housetables a large round table in the middle, at which already a couple of teachers were sitting. Harry noted that some of them were familiar, though younger, and other unfamiliar. Dumbledore was sitting at the head, if there even was something like a head at a round table, so that he was facing the entrance and nodded at the four newcomers to come over.

Hermione felt tears in her eyes, when they rested on the person sitting next to the Headmaster. It was a younger looking and very much alive Minerva McGonagall. She blinked them away and smiled lightly, happy that she was able to see the one person she had once considered somewhat of a mentor, again.

The other teachers turned in their seats, when the doors opened and the four young people had stepped in and the doors then once again shut behind them. Dumbledore got up, when they had approached the table and smiled kindly. "Welcome, I hope you have slept well?" At their nods, he continued. "Very well, why won't you join us?" With a quick wave of his wand, four more plates, goblets and cutlery appeared on the suddenly enlarged table, as well as four more chairs. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco sat down under the wary glances of the other teachers and then Dumbledore proceeded to finally introduce them. He started with the four of them, telling the other teachers their names and what subjects they would teach, also explaining Ron's and Harry's relations to Arthur and James and then continued the other way around, by naming the other teachers and their subjects. The only other new teacher at the table was Sybill Trelawney, who was going to teach Divination, and she cried out, when Harry was introduced, immediately predicting his soon and unavoidable death. Harry only rolled his eyes at her and continued to fill scrambled eggs on his plate, much to the amusement or surprise of the other teachers.

Next to the teachers the four friends already knew (Professor Flitwick, Professor Sprout), were a couple that they did not know yet. Professor Elizabeth Thatcher, a thin witch in her late thirties with straight black hair and blue eyes, taught Arithmancy. An older wizard with brown, but slowly graying hair, was Professor Kief Futhark and he taught Ancient Runes. Hermione was sitting next to a young wizard – only about four to five years older than them - and he was introduced as the teacher for Muggle Studies. His name was Christophe Hayden and he had a lean but muscular body, shorter blond hair and brown eyes.

"Not present today", said Dumbledore, "are Professor Binn's, who, thanks to his status as ghost, does not need to eat, Professor Sherrine Artemis, who teaches Astronomy, our Care for Magical Creatures teacher Professor Kettleburn, Hogwart's caretaker Argus Filch, the gamekeeper Rubeus Hagrid (Harry's, Hermione's and Ron's faces lit up by this name), the librarian Irma Pince and our school nurse, Poppy Pomfrey, but I think that you will meet them soon."

When the introductions were done, the four time travelers were surprised at how warmly they were welcomed at Hogwarts, especially in this situation, but it seemed as if, even in this time, Dumbledore was fully respected and trusted by his colleagues. Hermione was immediately engaged in a deep conversation with Christophe Hayden, since it appeared that they were both muggleborn and Ron was talking to Elizabeth Thatcher about Quidditch tactics. Only Draco and Harry were currently not talking to anyone, but listening to the conversations at the table and eating.

.

It was only a couple of minutes later, when the doors opened again and two more persons stepped into the Great Hall. Again several heads turned around, including Harry's and his whole body tensed up and his eyes widened. James and Lily Potter were approaching the table, but while seeing his father had somehow become something he had gotten used to over the course of the last day, seeing his mother was something completely different. He only knew her from pictures and from his few memories of his parents, but seeing her alive and in person was rendering him speechless. She was even more beautiful than on the pictures, all traces of having given birth just one day ago were gone. The sunrays coming from the enchanted ceiling let her hair glow in many different shades of red and he was sure that he would never forget the soft smile on her face. He swallowed hard, as they got closer and tried to regain his composure. It would not be good if someone caught him staring at a married woman.

Dumbledore greeted the newcomers and with a wave of his wand the table was set for two more people between Professor Flitwick and Professor Trelawney. Lily smiled at them and Harry noticed, how she squeezed James' hand, when they sat down. After having filled their plates, Professor Flitwick inquired about Lily's and little Harry's well-being. He also asked, if they had named their son after James' cousin.

James threw an uneasy look at Harry, but Lily saved him. "To be honest, it was my idea to name him Harry. At that time I did not even know that James does have a cousin called Harry until I told him how I wanted to call our son." She smiled at Harry how only a mother could smile at her child and Harry's heart missed a bit.

Could she know?

He glanced at Dumbledore, who only nodded once, even though he also looked a bit surprised. He apparently had talked to James about playing along, even though he did not believe their story, but did not know that James had talked about this to his wife, who, it seemed, believed them.

The rest of the breakfast passed quickly and rather uneventful. Some of the teachers asked, how they had come to teaching at Hogwarts and what they had done before. Harry told them the cover story, only to have everything confirmed by James, even the things that he had made up even now, for example their previous education. He had told them that he and his friends had visited a wizarding school in a small town they had grown up in. Harry had heard of those schools before and thought that this would be the perfect alibi.

When Dumbledore clapped into his hands and the table was cleared, James and Lily got up again. They bade them a good day and while they were leaving, James walked directly past Harry, who suddenly felt a piece of paper in his hand. He quickly looked around, but no one had noticed anything. Hermione was still talking to the other young teacher, while Draco had joined Ron in the conversation with the Arithmancy professor. The other teachers also did not pay him any attention, so he quickly unfolded the note. It read, 'Meet me at the Quidditch pitch after the staff meeting. J.P.'

.

Slowly, one after another the rest of the teachers filed in and when everyone was seated, Dumbledore repeated the introductions with the new teachers and then proceeded to topics concerning the coming school year and what the situation with Voldemort meant to this. But Harry could not concentrate enough to listen. His mind was still on the note he had received from James. Besides, he was sure that Hermione, who was diligently making notes, would tell him everything later.

It seemed to Harry as if the meeting would not end, when Dumbledore suddenly announced that the staff meeting was over. Harry, having waited for this the whole time, curtly excused himself and left the Great Hall, ignoring the confused looks on his friends' faces.

* * *

When also the other teachers rose from the table, Hermione turned to Christophe Hayden. "Excuse me, please, but I need to go to the library. I wanted to start on the lesson plan for the coming term."

He smiled at her. "May I accompany you? I also need to add some finishing touches to mine and besides, this castle is enormous and it would be bad, if a professor got lost on her first day."

Hermione chuckled. Of course, he could not know that she knew most of the corridors by heart. "You may."

Continuing to talk about Hogwarts, they left the Great Hall. None of them noticed the one person looking after them with an unreadable expression on his face.

* * *

Harry slowed his steps, when he neared the Quidditch pit, not wanting to appear out of breath. He walked around the stands and saw James sitting on the bench for the reserve players. His father was already expecting him.


	10. The Stag and the Fawn

**A/N: So, the chapter all of you've been waiting for! Because of this, I don't want to keep you up with long author notes… Go on, read!**

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**Chapter 10: The Stag and the Fawn**

When he heard the rustling of the dry grass of the Quidditch pitch, James Potter raised his head and opened his eyes. He had been sitting there ever since he had brought his wife back to the room Dumbledore had offered them for the next one or two days until Lily and little Harry felt up to going back home. As a matter of fact, it was her doing that he was about to meet again with the young man that claimed to be his son. His eyes landed on the black-haired young man walking up to him and he stood up with a stoic expression on his face.

As soon as Harry's gaze landed on his father, he started to ask himself, what exactly he was doing here. He suddenly highly doubted that James just wanted to talk to him. But what should he do if his father decided that everything that had been said the night before had been a lie? What should he do if his father decided to attack him? Should he fight back? Unconsciously Harry checked the holster around his right forearm, which held his wand (A nice present from Ron to his birthday before he had started the Auror training – Harry only had to will the wand into his hand and the holster would let it slip into his palm.) He had no idea how he was in duelling – no one had ever told him. He had found out things about his parents' life, about their characters, but nothing about their fighting skills. Harry only knew that Voldemort had killed them without much trouble, so that had to mean something, had it not? He himself was at least able to fight Voldemort and still lived. Did that mean that he was already a better wizard than his father was?

Harry shook his head. This did not matter right now. He did not want to fight his father. He wanted to prove that he was really his son, that he had not lied! And there was no backing out now. Right now, Harry would not be too unhappy if he had a fag to calm his already nearly bursting nerves.

"You wanted to talk to me?" Harry asked when he stopped in front of James. He noted that he and his father were of the same height and about the same build. Once again Harry had to admit that the others were right, when they said that he looked much like his father. Something he had only seen in pictures before he could now see in person. He instinctively ran a hand through his long hair, causing a few strands to fall out of the tie that held it together, when he noticed the unruly black mob on his father's head. They had the same nose and almost the same cheekbones, though Harry's were a bit more accentuated.

But not only Harry was comparing himself with his father. James did too and because of this, he did not answer immediately. He was too amazed by the obvious resemblance between them that Arthur had already pointed out to him after the surprising revelation the night before. It was almost like looking into a mirror, only that the mirror showed another version of him, a version that had seen too much and been through too much.

"I did," he answered at length. "I wanted to ask you, if what you said yesterday is the truth or just a story made up to earn Dumbledore's trust."

Deep in his stomach, Harry felt slightly self-conscious under his father's scrutinizing gaze, but neither his posture nor his voice betrayed it. "It's the truth. Besides, Dumbledore already trusted me before he even knew who I was. In the end it was something…" Harry hesitated. Did his parents already know of the prophecy or did they not? If not, he did not want to reveal it. "Something else that gained his complete trust. Actually, it was my identity that convinced Dumbledore fully."

"Can you prove it? As I already said last night, I need some proofs before I can believe you…"

"What do you want to know?" Harry asked uneasily. He had no idea how to convince his father.

James shrugged. "Tell me things that only my son would know, things that only Lily or I could have told you…"

I can't remember a thing you told me, Harry thought, because I was only one year old, when you died.

He was quickly growing desperate, but still did not show it. Instead it looked like he was just thinking hard of something that might be enough to prove to his father that he was truly his son from the future. Again the first thing he thought of was the prophecy, but since he still did not know if Dumbledore had already informed his parents about it, he remained quiet.

"You and mom, you didn't get along in school and only got together at the end of your sixth year." Harry was glad that Remus had told him about this, though it did not seem to be enough for James, so he searched his mind again for a memory he might be able to use. "Mom does have one sister. Her name's Petunia and she's married to one Vernon Dursley. Together they have one son, Dudley. They live in Privet Drive, Little Whinging in Surrey. You, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew became illegal Animagi to keep Remus Lupin company during the full moon nights. Your nicknames were Prongs, Padfoot, Moony and Wormtail. The four of you were called the Marauders and you've created a map – the Marauders Map. It shows the Hogwarts grounds along with every single person and its whereabouts. You absolutely despise Severus Snape and almost got him killed one time, when Sirius had wanted to lure him into the Shrieking Shack, where Remus was hiding during full moon…"

Harry stopped, his mind running wild. But he remembered nothing else that could convince his father. Everything else he had heard was common knowledge and Harry even doubted that most of the things he had just told James were of any use. James' face only confirmed his suspicion.

"Those were all things everyone could have told you, okay, maybe except for the map," James admitted, "but there are other ways of finding out about it. I'm sorry, but you still haven't convinced me."

Harry racked his brain, trying to remember everything that had ever been told him about his parents, when James interrupted his thoughts.

"Everyone in school knew that we called Sirius Padfoot, Remus Moony and Peter Wormtail and that they called me Prongs."

Prongs! Harry's face lit up with a smile and suddenly held his wand in his hand. "Expecto Patronum!" he cried and watched how the silver Patronus was born out of the tip of his wand. If this did not convince James, Harry did not know what else he could try.

The silver glowing stag galloped once around the Quidditch pitch, followed by the awed gaze of James Potter. Eventually it stopped in front of the older Potter and James looked at it disbelieving. He reached out his hand to touch it, but as soon as it connected, the Patronus dissolved into a silvery mist, which was blown away by the wind.

He looked after the mist until it was completely gone, before he turned to Harry with an astounded look on his face and then smiled softly, when he once again took in the young man in front of him. "You really have her eyes…"

James sighed and ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more.

"I got the feeling that she knew the truth ever since she laid her eyes upon you. Dumbledore had come to the hospital wing last night after you had retired to your quarters and asked me to give you another chance or at least go along with their cover story. I had thought that Lily was sleeping, but she didn't, so I had to explain it to her. She then had insisted on coming to breakfast with me, so that she could meet you. She didn't want to listen to me, she only said that a mother would always recognize her child. We had then agreed that she would squeeze my hand, when she thought that your story was true, so that I could talk to you in private."

Again the hand went through his hair. "

But even though I had her word that you meant no harm, I needed proof. I mean, she always prides herself that she's a good judge of character, but for a reason that I can't fathom she doesn't like Peter that much, even though he's one of my friends… But now, after having seen your Patronus, seeing that it looks like _me_, and having Lily's word, I believe you…" James smiled at his son. "I'm sorry that I treated you the way I did, but I hope you do understand that it's better to be safe than sorry in times like these…"

Harry finally released the breath that he had been holding almost the whole time without even noticing it and felt as if the weight on his shoulders had suddenly gotten a huge deal lighter. Even the urge to smoke had lessened, he noticed wryly. "I understand… I shouldn't have attacked Peter. It was wrong… But… thanks… I think…"

"Now that you mention Peter," James said, as he sat down. Harry let his wand slide back into its holster and joined his father on the bench. "Why did you attack him in the first place?"

Harry shrugged, not wanting to reveal to his father that his mother was right in not trusting Wormtail. "We have our difference in my time and don't get along. And I think that after the time travel I was still a bit confused."

"Ahh," his father only said and leaned back on the bench. "Tell me something, about yourself, school… Do you play Quidditch?"

"I do," he answered. "Play Quidditch, I mean. At least in school. I was seeker for the Gryffindor team. There hasn't been much time to play in the last few years with Voldemort and his Death Eaters on the loose."

"I see…" James replied thoughtfully, though a bit of pride was still shining through and then suddenly jumped up from the bench, startling Harry. "What do you think? Before you have to tell everything twice, I invite you to have lunch with Lily and me. I'm sure that she'll be happy to spend some time with you."

"Uhm, okay…" Still a bit surprised by his father's sudden idea, Harry also got up and followed the other young man into the castle and through the corridors until they stopped in front of a painting of a knight and his fat pony. Harry chuckled, as he recognized the painting. The knight's name was Sir Cadogan and he had guarded the entry to the Gryffindor tower while the Fat Lady had been repaired after the attack of Sirius Black in their third year. Sirius had tried to get into the Gryffindor tower to get Ron's rat Scabbers, who, in reality, was none other than Peter Pettigrew, the traitor who had been responsible for James' and Lily's deaths.

"You coming?" he suddenly heard James ask and saw that he was already halfway through the hole. Harry had been so lost in his memories that he had not even noticed that James had said the password. Hesitating slightly, he followed his father through the portrait hole and saw his mother sitting on the deep red couch with a book in her hands as soon as he stepped inside. A small crib stood next to the couch and Harry could make out a mob of messy black hair. "Honey, look whom I've brought home for lunch!"

Lily Potter looked up from her book and her eyes went wide, when she noticed Harry standing uncertainly in front of the portrait. She shot a questioning look at James, who nodded, and then got up, her hands shaking. "You are really my son?"

Harry nodded, his throat suddenly being much too dry for him to speak. His mother was standing directly in front of him, his mother whom he had never met before. Before he knew it, he had a pair of arms wrapped tightly around his neck. His mother was hugging him… His mother was hugging him! Harry's mind seemed to work in slow motion, only now grasping the fact that this was the first hug his mother had given him since he was a baby.

Suddenly she let go of him and looked at him with watery eyes, taking in each and every detail. "I knew it wasn't a lie. The moment I saw you, I _knew_ that you were my son…"


	11. Disrupted lunch

**A/N: Not much to say, except thanks again for the reviews and have fun with this chapter!**** (A chapter that actually wasn't even planned at first!)**

* * *

**Chapter 11: Disrupted lunch**

Harry could almost swear that he had never had a better lunch before. True, the lunches and other meals at the Burrow and even at Grimmauld Place he had spent with his makeshift family had mostly been interesting and fun, but this one topped it all, because this lunch he was spending with his true family. This feeling was completely new to him (the Dursleys never really counted as family) and yet it already felt as if it belonged, as if it had never been different.

They spent the lunch talking and laughing, their topics ranged from their friends, which topic Harry approached carefully and a bit reserved, over Hogwarts, classes and teachers, when, in a moment of carelessness, Harry let slip that, much to James' horror ("That slimy git?!"), his Potions and in seventh year also Defence against the Dark Arts teacher had been Snape. Lily had just laughed and said that even though Severus Snape had always been a bit antisocial at school, he was not that bad, as they had had the pleasure of working together on a potion assignment for a couple of weeks and he had always been nice and polite to her. Harry and his father only looked at each other with expressions of mild disgust on their faces and James decided that it was better to change the topic.

"So Harry, any girlfriends we should know about?"

Harry sputtered and almost spit out the pumpkin juice he had in his mouth, when James popped this question. He felt his face redden, both of embarrassment and the force of trying to swallow the juice. He looked at James and saw that the young man was grinning brightly, while his mother was trying to suppress a smile, though he could see the curiosity twinkling in her eyes. "Er… No…"

"No girlfriend?" James asked, mockingly aghast. "With your looks every girl should be at your feet! But there's one you fancy, isn't there?"

"Well," Harry said hesitatingly. As a matter of fact, there was one, but thanks to the ever looming threat that he might not live to see the next day and his dedication to become better and more powerful than Voldemort, he had not yet dared to start dating her. Maybe, when everything was over, when they were back in their own time and Voldemort was defeated, he would ask her out.

"Well?" James raised an eyebrow.

His son sighed and allowed a small smile on his lips, when he thought of her. "There is one. But there hasn't been the opportune moment, yet. In my time, there are right now more important things than finding a girlfriend," he ended gravely.

"Come on, tell us about her… If you don't want to tell us her name, then maybe something else."

"She's about a head smaller than me, smart and she does have a rather mischievous streak. I can talk to her about everything that bothers me and she always gives me some advice. She's a lion at heart, always stands up to other and sometimes it seems to me as if she doesn't fear anything. Oh, and one thing you might like – she was a superb chaser on our house team," Harry added almost as an afterthought.

"A chaser, huh? Best position on the whole team, if you ask me." James looked at him daringly.

"Is that so? Well, I prefer playing seeker." Happy that they had found another topic to talk about, Harry accepted the dare and so they got into a playful argument about which position was better and more important – chaser or seeker.

Lily watched the whole exchange with a smile on her face, until little Harry announced with a loud wail that he was in desperate need of some attention. She stood up and gathered him in his arms. The baby quieted down immediately. She then walked up to Harry – he and James had stopped arguing when they had heard the cry – and sat down next to him on the couch. "Do you want to hold him?"

A look of pure terror must have passed on his face, because James once again started to laugh and Lily only smiled at him softly. "I- uhm, I don't know. I've never held a baby before…"

"There's a first time for everything," Lily said and carefully put the infant into his older self's arms.

Harry was at a loss of what to do now. He did not dare to move, out of fear to crush or break his baby-self. "Don't worry!" James still laughed. "He isn't made of glass. You can hold him a bit closer."

Doing what James had said, he pulled him (himself!) a bit closer and looked down into a pair of emerald eyes. Harry could swear that the baby recognized him, which was, of course, impossible, since the baby was not even able to see properly yet. He smiled, when the little boy yawned and marvelled at how he had looked as a baby. The messy mob of black hair on the head and the eyes were definitely his. But one thing, Harry thought, was missing. And that was the lightning bolt scar on the baby's forehead. Technically the boy would receive this scar in about one year and a couple of months, but not if Harry had a say in this!

.

Suddenly the portrait swung open and three men, laden with plenty of colourfully wrapped presents, were about to storm into the room, but stopped dead in their tracks, when their eyes landed on Harry holding the baby. A small present, wrapped in blue paper with golden stars on it, fell from the stack and hit the floor with a loud 'Moo!'. Other presents followed suite, when Sirius Black got over the initial shock and whipped out his wand. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"It's okay, Sirius," James said, as he stepped up to his friend. "I invited him over for lunch."

"You what?" the black-haired man sputtered. By now Remus and Peter had also discarded the presents they had been carrying and were pointing their wands at Harry, though Harry noticed that Peter's hand was shaking badly and that Remus was studying him with a thoughtful expression on his face, always gazing between him and the baby. "Are you crazy? This guy's a Death Eater!"

"No, he's not," they suddenly heard a new voice behind them and saw Arthur Weasley and his wife Molly enter the room. "Lower your wands, please, there's absolutely no reason for this."

"You too, Arthur?" Sirius asked appalled.

"M-maybe h-he put t-them under the I-Imperius C-Curse," Peter stuttered.

Sighing, Harry handed his baby-self back to Lily, who then put him back into the crib. It would be better, if his hands were free of any burden in case the situation escalated. And escalate it would, if Sirius kept up like this.

"Listen, none of us here in this room is under the Imperius. There have just been some unexpected revelations, that's all. You see…" James threw a quick glance at Arthur, asking for a bit of help to convince them.

"This young man here is a distant relative of James, and his red-haired friend is a distant cousin of me. I know, this sounds unbelievable, especially when you hear their names, but I assure you that they mean no harm."

"What Arthur is talking about," Lily now said, "is that they found out about open teaching spots through him and wanted to come to the Burrow before they went to Hogwarts. However, due to the threats of the Death Eaters and the attacks, we all forgot about this and mistook them for Death Eaters, especially since the correspondence had been limited to owls."

Harry saw Arthur and James nodding, while Molly was looking between the baby in the crib and him in wonder. He also noticed that Remus was following her gaze and that suddenly a look of understanding passed on his face. The werewolf smiled at Harry and lowered his wand, much to Sirius' and Peter's surprise.

"What are you doing?" Sirius hissed.

"I believe James and Arthur that he and his friends mean no harm," he replied simply. "Besides, if Albus trusts them enough to employ them as teachers, I think we should, too. Nice to meet you." He then walked up to Harry and extended his hand, which he shook relieved. "I'm Remus Lupin and my suspicious friends are Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew, if you didn't know yet."

"Harry Potter," Harry answered, smirking at the shocked and surprised faces of Sirius and Peter.

"I told you that their names might surprise you," Arthur said smiling, as he clapped on Harry's shoulder. "My cousin is called Ron, just as my youngest." Harry returned the smile, thanking him silently as he started to relax. "Albus invited Molly and me to stay over dinner tonight. Molly can't wait to meet Ron," he then told the young man.

Growling, Sirius also finally put the wand into his pocket and Peter followed his example. "Okay, but only because you trust him, James."

"Fabulous!" Arthur Weasley exclaimed. "Now that all problems are solved, I think we're here to congratulate Lily and James to their first child and spoil the kid with plenty of presents!"

"You're right, Arthur," Sirius said, with slightly forced cheerfulness and picked up the mooing present. "So, James, Lily, where's my godson?"

Harry, who now started to feel a bit out of place, as everyone else gathered around the crib and cooed at the baby, gave James and Lily a quick wave and mouthed goodbye before he left the room. As soon as the portrait of Sir Cadogan closed behind him ("Stay and fight you coward!") Harry let out a deep breath. That was close. If Sirius and his father had not been best friends, he was sure that a fight would have broken out.

Now that he was standing in front of the portrait, Harry did not quite know what to do now. He did not feel like going back to their chambers already nor to the library, because he was pretty sure that he would meet Hermione there and what he needed right now was some time alone. So he opted to take a walk around the castle to see if there are any major differences to their time he and the others ought to know.

While he was walking, Harry noticed that the castle was unusual silent. He half expected the doors to the classrooms to open and masses of students to rush out of them to their next class. The only times he had known the castle to be nearly as quiet and deserted as now had been during the Christmas breaks that he had spent at Hogwarts. And even then you would have met at least one or two students in the hallways.

Harry wandered through both familiar and unfamiliar corridors, over moving staircases, past his old classrooms and stopped shortly, when he was suddenly standing in front of the empty portrait of the Fat Lady. The urge to take a look inside the Gryffindor common room and the dormitories was big, but neither could he enter, without the Fat Lady to grant him access nor did he know the password – Did he as teacher even need a password? Harry had no idea.

Sighing, he let his feet carry him through more hallways, first stopping when he was standing in a classroom – the classroom for Defence against the Dark Arts. His classroom. In about four weeks this classroom would be filled with students of all seven years, expecting to learn something about the Dark Arts and the defence against them. Once again, doubts started to nag at the back of his mind. He absolutely could not see himself as teacher. The DA had been different – there he had been teaching fellow students, but in four weeks he was supposed to stand before a whole class of people he had never seen before. Give him a couple of Death Eaters and he would be fine, but give him a couple of students and he would freak.

Would they see him like he had seen Quirrel, who knew something about the Dark Arts but had not really been a capable teacher (apart from the fact that Voldemort had been sitting at the back of his head), Lockhart, who had been an absolute moron and knew nothing except for the memory charm, or Lupin, the best teacher they had had until then? Then there had been Barthy Crouch junior, who had posed as Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, but from whom they had truly learned something about curses, Dolores Umbridge, the Ministry official, who had been making his fifth year at Hogwarts to hell with purely theoretical lessons, countless detentions, his and the Weasley twins' ban from Quidditch and the prohibition of the DA. The woman, who had driven Dumbledore and Hagrid from Hogwarts and whom he partly blamed for Sirius' death. No, he did not want to be compared to this foul woman. He would arrange his lessons more like the ones of Lupin, Moody/Crouch and maybe a bit like Viktor Krum's, who had had to give up his career as Quidditch player because of a permanent injury of his spine after an accident during the finale of the Olympic Wizarding Games. Despite all reservations of the students at first, he had shown his knowledge of the Dark Arts in their sixth year, but had also resigned at the end of the year due to _personal_ reasons. However, their seventh year had been _special_. Harry did not know if he should shudder at the thought or not, because no matter how much he disliked Severus Snape, he had been the one who had taught them all they needed to know to pass the NEWTs with at least an 'E' (Exceeded Expectations) or an 'O' (Outstanding) and more to prepare them for the war waging outside of the secure walls of Hogwarts.

_No_, Harry told himself resolutely. He would be a good teacher. The students would look up to him like he and his schoolmates had looked up to Lupin, Moody/Crouch, Krum and in the end Snape. He would prepare them for the world outside, would teach him everything he knew and most of all, he decided, he would make them face their fears and fight them. They would leave this classroom at the end of a class and be able to use what he had taught them, if they were ever attacked.

In his mind a plan started to form. He would soon need to make a visit to the library and Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade to find suitable books and what else he needed for his lessons. With this thought in mind, Harry left the Defence against the Dark Arts classroom. _Voldemort, be warned. _

* * *

Back in the common room, Harry found Ron hunched over a catalogue of Quidditch supplies, looking at different types of brooms. "Hey Harry," his best friend greeted him. "Where've you been?"

"I had lunch with my parents," he replied smiling and sat down next to him, also taking a look at the catalogue.

"So they believe you?" Ron asked hopefully. When Harry nodded, Ron clapped him on the shoulder. "Good for you, mate."

"Yeah… I also met your parents. They will stay over dinner tonight."

"Oh…okay," Ron said, momentarily taken aback.

"Don't worry, you know that the only thing your mum might do is hugging you to death."

"That's exactly, what I'm afraid of…" he muttered.

Harry snickered, before Ron's glare shut him up. "By the way, where are Hermione and Draco?"

"Hermione is in the library, I think. And Draco went to check out the potion supplies in his office to see, if he needs to buy anything for the coming term. I think we all should plan a trip to Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley soon. I'm pretty sure that Hermione needs a lot of books and I need a good broom for my classes. What about you?" Ron wanted to know.

"I also thought about buying some books and I also need to find a book for the students. And a broom doesn't sound too bad. I guess, Draco will agree. Is there anything interesting in there?" he asked.

"Well, here's the very first Nimbus, but I heard that the first ones of the series aren't that good. The Cleansweep series sounds better, but there's also a broom called Thunderbolt. It's from the same manufacturer as your Firebolt. We should really check them out in Quality Quidditch Supplies…"


	12. Diagon Alley

**A/N: Well, I know this isn't the dinner scene you've been waiting for, but I was planning to slowly pick up the pace. I mean, eleven chapters were written and only two days had passed… But I hope you like this chapter, though it isn't the dinner scene. Thanks again for your support and now have fun!**

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**Chapter 12: Diagon Alley**

_He was standing in front of a house, five black robed and white masked Death Eaters at each side of him. Suddenly, from one second to another, the building went up in green flames and the Dark Mark appeared floating above it. At the sight of this, a shrill and cruel laugh went over his lips and a feeling of true delight welled up in his chest. The Muggles living in this house were still inside with no way to escape and he could hear their screams, as they tried to open the doors and windows that his faithful Death Eaters had locked with charms. He could see them, standing in front of the window of the front door, a married couple and a teenage boy, staring at him and his servants in horror, as they were engulfed in bright green flames and died, slowly and painfully._

Harry woke up with a start, his heart pounding hard against his chest and his scar burning like fire. Sweat was pouring down his face, as the picture of he three Muggles flashed in front of his eyes and Voldemort's piercing laughter penetrated his ears. He lay still for a couple of minutes, trying to catch his breath. He had not been prepared for this, had not been prepared to once again see the terror of Voldemort's reign so soon. He had not been prepared to see innocent Muggles die.

It was still dark in the room, meaning that it was sometime in the middle of the night. Harry rolled over in his bed, trying to block out the memories of his vision and to ignore the throbbing pain in his scar. He did not want to think about what he had witnessed just minutes ago – the Muggles were dead and there was nothing he could do to change that. He needed to go back to sleep, to rest a bit, because he and the other time travelers wanted to go to Diagon Alley that day.

It was Wednesday, August 6, 1980, they had been in the past for almost a week and in that week they had adjusted quite well. Hermione had immediately found a good colleague in Christophe Hayden, the Muggle Studies teacher and spent a lot of time with or without him in the library. As usual she wanted her lessons to be perfect and so she put a lot of work into the lesson plans.

The dinner with Ron's parents had gone quite well, regarding the circumstances that no one except for the Potters and the Weasleys knew the truth about the four time travelers. Molly Weasley had almost crushed _the cousin of her husband_ in a hug, as she had first seen him. Later, after dinner, the three of them had spent some quality time alone and talked about random things. Molly and Arthur had left late that night, promising to be back sometime soon, and Ron had stepped into the common room with a grin on his face. From the following day on, he had started to spend much time either planning his lessons as well or trying out and replenishing the school brooms with much care. He did not want his students to learn how to fly under adverse circumstances, nor did he want to encourage accidents during Quidditch matches, when the students were using school brooms that had been neglected.

In the last week, Harry had used his parents' presence at Hogwarts to its fullest and spent many hours with them, either just talking or sitting in silence and watching little Harry. He and his father had yet to mount their brooms to test the other's skills at Quidditch. The rest of the time he prepared a rough outline for his lessons plan, first being able to note down the finer points when he had found the books he wanted to use in his classes. Sometimes Harry joined Ron on the Quidditch field, testing out the brooms and getting into improvised Quidditch matches, at which even Draco had participated once or twice.

Most of the other times Draco was either locked up in this office in the dungeons or had his nose buried in yet another book about potions, be it in the common room or in the library. He did not talk much or interacted with the others. He was not in the mood for yet another row with Weasley or being constantly bugged by Granger or Potter. It made him sick to hear Weasley talk about his parents and how happy he was that they knew the truth, to see Potter return from every meeting with his parents with a happy grin on his face, nor to see Granger walking through the corridors talking and laughing with this Hayden. He could not stand it, so he rather kept to himself.

* * *

Harry did not know when, but he had somehow managed to fall asleep again after his vision. However, Hermione pounding on his door and yelling at him to get up now roughly waked him up. Luckily, his scar did not hurt anymore and yet he was as tired as if he had not slept at all that night. The last few hours had been dreamless, but now that he was awake, he could again envision the Muggles, how they were dying a gruesome death. Shaking his head, Harry groggily sat up and yelled, "I'm awake!" He would rather slip back under the covers and sleep a few more hours, but a quick glance at his watch on the nightstand told him that it was already eight forty – their portkey to Diagon Alley was to be activated at nine o'clock.

Cursing, he nearly jumped out of the bed, grabbed his in the meantime cleaned Muggle clothes and disappeared in the bathroom. It was ten to nine, when Harry finally stepped into the common room, with his robe quickly thrown over his shoulders and muttered a small 'Sorry' and 'We can go' to his friends, who were already waiting for him, with half-amused and half-annoyed looks on their faces. They followed Harry out of the common room and headed to Dumbledore's office, from where they would travel to London.

As soon as they stopped in front of the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the office, Harry panted, "Chocolate Chip Cookies," and the gargoyle sprang aside, revealing the spiral staircase.

Dumbledore was already waiting for them with a mischievous smile on his face and gave them the portkey, an old and obviously well loved teddy bear. "Please, don't forget to bring him back to me. I'm rather fond of him," he said. "Oh, and before I forget – I was so free to open an account at Gringotts for each of you and to transfer your first salary for this month into your vaults. The keys to them are deposited at Gringotts and you just need to sign some forms to get them. Have a nice day!"

Just as Dumbledore had finished the sentence, the four of them felt the familiar tug behind their navels and arrived at the portkey station at Diagon Alley. Harry gave the teddy bear to one of the clerks for safekeeping until it activated again at five pm for their return to Hogwarts.

Harry had to blink a few times for his eyes to adjust to the glaring sunlight, as they stepped out of the station. His heart immediately soared a bit, as he took in the familiar sights of Diagon Alley, but also noticed some stores that did not exist in his time. Even though it was still quite early, busy witches and wizard and also people in Muggle clothes were roaming the street. Smiling, he watched children pulling their parents into Gambol & Japes or demanding to go to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor and the awed looks of Muggles, as they took in the scenery of Diagon Alley. _They must be here to get a first impression of the wizarding world_, Harry thought, because since neither he nor his friends had decided on a book for the students yet, the Hogwarts letters could not have gone out yet.

At first, they decided to go to Gringotts Wizarding Bank, because even though each of them had had some money on him or her during their unintended trip to the past, it would never be enough to purchase everything they needed. Once there, they had to wait a few minutes in along line and then sign some forms, as Dumbledore had already told them, before the goblin at the counter gave them their keys and called another goblin (Grashnak) to bring them to their vaults. Fortunately, the four vaults were all next to each other (762-765), so they quickly gathered as many Galleons, Sickles and Knuts as they needed and then went back to the surface. Harry thought that though the amount of money in that vault was absolutely nothing compared to the amount of money in his vault in their time, Dumbledore had been quite generous with their first salary and silently wondered, if the other teachers all earned that much. Before they left Gringotts, Harry told his friends to wait for him, as he went to a free counter to exchange some of his wizarding money into pounds.

Their next destination was Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, as they could not walk around in borrowed and transfigured robes all the time at school. The moment they stepped inside, Madam Malkin, the squat, smiling owner of the store, came up to them. "Can I help you, dears?"

"Yes, I think you can. We're looking for different sets of robes," Hermione told her.

"Of course. Melanie, can you please help me here?" Madam Malkin asked her assistant and whisked Ron and Harry to a few racks, while her colleague went up to Hermione and Draco. They all chose robes for teaching and for casual wear and also a set of dress robes. One time, Harry and Draco, who had two cabins facing each other, stepped out at the same time, wearing exactly the same dark green robes. They both stared at each other and immediately turned around, trying on the next robe. In the end, the four of them were sporting bags filled to the brim with robes and left the shop.

Since none of them had had any breakfast, they decided to go to the Leaky Cauldron, to get some late breakfast or early lunch, but on the way there, Draco announced that he wanted to go to the Apothecary first to stock up his potion supplies.

While, Harry, Ron and Hermione were waiting outside, Harry suddenly noticed a petite, ashblond and obviously pregnant woman that seemed somehow familiar to him, holding a small, black-haired girl at her hand. Harry could swear that he had seen her before, but could not say when or where. His eyes followed her, until she disappeared in the crowd and an exasperated sigh coming from Hermione pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Oh honestly…"

"What is it?" Ron asked surprised.

"We're being followed." Hermione motioned with her head to a small dark alley between two stores, where a large, black dog disappeared in. Harry and Ron just saw how the dog became one with the darkness and Harry sighed as well.

"Sirius…"

"What are you looking at?" Draco wanted to know, as he came out of the Apothecary.

While they were walking towards the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione filled Draco in about them being followed by Sirius in his Animagus form. In the inn, they sat down at a free table and Harry looked around for Tom, the innkeeper, until his gaze landed on the front page of the Daily Prophet that one of the other customers was reading. The headline read _Another Attack of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named on Muggles and Muggleborns_ and next to the article was a picture of an all-too-familiar house engulfed in green flames and the Dark Mark. Harry's stomach churned – this was the house from his dream.

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked concerned, when she saw the pale look on his face and then turned around to see what he was looking at. "Oh…"

At that moment, Tom appeared at their table, ready to take their orders. While the others ordered some lunch to satisfy their growling stomachs, Harry only ordered a glass of water, not feeling hungry anymore after seeing the picture and remembering again his vision from last night. The others still did not know that his connection to Voldemort was still there, only that this time he was connected to the Voldemort of this time.

When their meals and Harry's water were served, he only sipped at his drink, ignoring the concerned looks of Hermione and Ron. They ate mostly in silence and after about five minutes, Harry suddenly got up. "Sorry guys, don't let yourself be bothered. But I wanted to take a small trip to Muggle London to buy some Muggle clothes. I won't be long…" Without waiting for an answer, he left the suffocating air of the Leaky Cauldron and stepped into the fresh summer's air of London. Looking around, he spotted a sign of an H&M store at the corner and went to it without a second thought. He silently wondered, what kind of clothes he would encounter there, since he did not really know what people in this time wore.

Inside, he was immediately taken aback by loud punk music and the fashion. Pastel-colored sweatshirts, gigantic shoulder pads and glittery tops were practically all he could see. Browsing through the racks, he finally stumbled over jeans and rather normal looking shirts and T-shirts. He also found some black slacks and a denim jacket. After having tried on and decided for some of the clothes, he wanted to pay, when he suddenly spotted a long black leather duster hanging in a corner. Harry went over to it, shrugged it on and felt the soft and resistant leather. Ever since he had first seen one of those, he had wanted one and now was his chance, no matter what his friends would say, when they saw him wearing this. He looked at the price tag and sighed with relief, when he saw that it was on sale. Taking it off, he put it over his arm and went to the front to pay for his purchases. The Muggle at the cash register looked at him a bit strangely and he realized that he was still wearing his robes. Ignoring the look, he paid, took the bag with the clothes, happy that he would be able to shrink them as soon as he was back in the magical world, and left the store, heading back to the Leaky Cauldron. Just as he wanted to open the door to the inn, he again saw the black dog, this time standing openly on the other side of the street and could only shake his head. Why couldn't Sirius just let it go? Wasn't his father's word enough to prove that they weren't a threat?

Back at the inn, he saw that his friends had just finished their lunch and sat down on his chair. No one said anything and they called for Tom to pay. Only a few minutes later they were back at Diagon Alley and Hermione parted ways with the three young men. They wanted to go to Quality Quidditch Supplies to get new brooms and Hermione wanted to buy something else. "Something that might be of use for all of us," she had said and left, muttering about boys and their obsessions with Quidditch.

Harry, Ron and Draco went to the Quidditch store, where, as usual, a bunch of children was standing in front of the shop window, admiring the newest broom on the market. Even the three young men could not resist taking a look at it and saw that it was the _Thunderbolt_ that Ron had already talked about. Harry thought that it looked a bit like his trusty old Firebolt and wondered, if it would also be similar in the handling.

They entered the shop and immediately started to browse, testing some promising looking brooms, but Harry's mind always wandered back to the displayed broom in the front. It was pretty expensive and he asked himself, if he should already spend so much money on a broom, when they still had to purchase so many other things. But it would be good to have something that reminded him from where he came from and besides, they were all used to much better and more developed brooms and they might need the best, if they were somehow becoming involved in the war.

Ron and Draco seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because they only exchanged a quick look with Harry and then went to one of the clerks, asking to test the Thunderbolt. One hour later, the three of them emerged each with a wrapped Thunderbolt, leaving behind a very happy storeowner counting his money. Ron had also bought a complete Quidditch gear, which he needed as his position as referee during the matches at school, and a book about the Chudley Cannons. "It's a rarity! You have no idea how long I've been looking for this one at home!"

Just at the moment that they wanted to go looking for her, Hermione came running towards them, carrying an empty cage. "I bought an owl," she told them. "I already sent him to Hogwarts, so that he won't get in the way, while we're at Flourish and Blott's."

So that was their next destination and immediately each of them went to the area where they found the books they needed, agreeing to meet outside, when they're finished. The store was filled with all kinds of peoples and Harry was somehow glad that the Hogwarts letters had not gone out yet, since it would then be full of students getting their schoolbooks.

While he was looking through various Defense Against the Dark Arts books, he suddenly saw the mysterious woman and the girl on the other side of the shelves. He watched through a gap between the books how she talking to a brunette woman – a friend of hers she supposed. Harry did not want to eavesdrop, but he could not help himself, so, pretending to read the book he was currently holding, he listened to the words the two women exchanged.

Now and then he looked up and noticed that the woman was probably only one or two years older than him, whereas the girl looked to be about three years old. The woman's ashblond hair was going down to her shoulder blades in a thick braid and she had laughing blue eyes. She was about 5'5" of height, not outstanding gorgeous, but pretty in her own, somehow shy and well… pregnant way. He guessed that she was in her sixth or seventh month. The girl had straight, jet black hair that went down to her shoulders and the blue eyes of her mother.

"Say Clara, where's your husband?" he heard the brunette asking.

"We came to Diagon Alley together," the woman, Clara, answered. "But he had to attend some business, so he left me and Jocelyn to do some shopping."

Neither the names nor the fact that she was married meant anything to Harry and yet he could not shake off this feeling that he knew this woman. The two friends said goodbye and while the brown-haired woman left the store, Clara went to the back with her daughter to the children section.

Shaking his head, Harry turned his attention back to the book in his hands. He was probably mistaking her for someone else he had seen in his time. Slowly, after having taken a look at probably every single book on the shelves, he gathered the chosen schoolbooks as well as some books for his private collection and went to the back of the line leading up to the cash desk. There he saw her again at the desk, talking to the clerk and once again he strained his ears to catch bits and pieces of the conversation. Harry wished he had one of Fred and George's Extendable Ears, because it was hard to understand anything at all above the noise in the store.

"The books your husband ordered should arrive next week," Harry heard him say. He concentrated closer, but what he said next left Harry stunned and he doubted if he had heard right or just imagined it. According to what he had heard, the clerk had said, "Have a nice day, Mrs. Snape."

Harry watched her passing him with a dazed look on his face, until the customer behind him told him to move along.

Harry was the first one to leave the shop and his watch told him that he had spent about two and a half hour in there. He sat down on a bench and leaned back, enjoying the sun on his face. When he had already needed that long, he did not want to know how long Hermione would need. He was only surprised that Ron was not finished already, since he was usually the first one who would willingly leave a bookstore.

However, this was not what bothered him most. The only thing bothering him at that moment was actually what he had just heard inside. _Mrs. Snape?_ This could not be right. He had never heard Snape talking about any relatives before – well, he had never heard Snape talking about his personal life before, so no surprise here. She did not look like him at all, so it was highly improbable that she was his sister. The only one looking even remotely like him was the girl… _Bloody hell! _Harry thought as he realized what this might mean. That girl could be his daughter, but that meant that this woman must be his wife!

"Hey mate, what are you thinking about?" Ron asked, as he came up to him and saw the utterly shocked look on his friend's face.

"Nothing." Harry shook his head. "Nothing… Just wondered what you were doing so long inside a bookshop,HarHHheiief" he said grinning, trying to change the subject. He did not need to tell him about his suspicions, at least not until he found some proof.

"Buying books?" Ron showed him the heavy bag he was carrying and sat down next to him on the bench.

The two friends talked for about fifteen minutes, when Draco joined them. He also told them that he had seen Hermione, still completely enrapt by a couple of books and that it would take some more time until she would come out. So they sat there and waited. Another half an hour later, Harry treated them to a large sundae and when they had eaten the ice cream, Hermione had still not come out of the bookshop. It was already past half past four, not even half an hour before their portkey would be activated, when she finally emerged from the store, carrying two bottomless bags that seemed to brim over in each hand.

"Sorry guys, but I couldn't resist. We should hurry now…" She looked at them with an apologetic look on her face and Harry and Ron sighed, while Draco only looked annoyed. Hermione would probably never change.

Due to the number of people roaming the street, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco arrived at the station with only five minutes to spare. They hurried to the clerk they had given their portkey and at five o'clock they were whisked away back to Dumbledore's office and landed, thanks to Hermione's bags, which she unfortunately had not shrunken, in a tumbled heap. The old wizard was once again waiting for them and a small grin appeared on his face, when he saw their disheveled forms and red faces.

"How was your day? Did you get everything you needed?" he asked them, as they scrambled to get back up.

"Yeah," Ron grunted and handed Dumbledore the teddy bear, while Draco and Hermione glared at each other. "We got everything…"

"That's good. I also hope you're hungry, because dinner will be served in half an hour."

"Thank you Professor," Harry said. "We'll be there, but I think it will be better if we first bring our purchases to our rooms."

"Well then, I'll see you at dinner."

Nodding, the four of them left the office and walked back to the common room, Draco and Hermione still glaring.

"Next time Granger, shrink your bloody books! Have you any idea how much it hurts when a whole bag hits against your shinbone?" Draco growled.

"Get a grip, Mal- Draco! It can't have hurt that much!" she only replied and stalked off, being the first at the portrait to their entrance. "Future's past." The portrait swung open and Hermione went inside, dropping her bags on the floor and sitting down at the table before taking the Daily Prophet out of one of the bags. At the same moment that she had put the newspaper on the table, the three young men entered, all of them dropping their bags as well and sitting down in the armchairs or on the couch.

"You're going to tell us what it's saying?" Draco asked, still sounding annoyed.

Hermione sighed and started to read.

**_Another Attack of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named on Muggles and Muggleborns_**

_You-know-who and several of his Death Eaters burning down a Muggle house in Cardiff, Wales_

_At about three o'clock in the morning, You-know-who and his Death Eater appeared in the city Cardiff, Wales and set the house of the Muggle family Prescott aflame. Before the attack the Death Eaters performed locking charms on every door and window of the house, making it impossible for the family to flee. _Mr. and Mrs. Prescott had just returned from a vacation in Prague, _a neighbor told an Auror, before he placed a memory charm on her. Their son, Tony Prescott, was about to start his seventh year at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, this September. It is a terrible tragedy that again Muggles and Muggleborns had to suffer the reign of terror of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and the _Prophet_ wonders, if this attack is somehow connected to the appearance of the four strangers at the home of Ministry worker Arthur Weasley one week ago and their sudden employment by Headmaster Albus Dumbledore as teachers for the subjects Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Potions and Flying. The _Prophet_ will keep you informed about further attacks and the further happenings at Hogwarts. _

_Other attacks on Muggles – p. 2, 5 and 9_

_Hogwarts – is it still safe? - p. 3 and 7_

_This article was written by: R. Montgomery_

"This is terrible," Ron said, as he leaned back on the couch.

"It is, but it's war," Hermione agreed, casting a quick look at Harry, who looked incredibly pale. "We should probably head to dinner," she added, after they had sat in silence for a couple of minutes. The others agreed and together they left their common room.

The house-elves had once again outdone themselves, Harry thought, as he looked at the food, but once again he could not bring himself to eat anything. He looked to his left and right and saw the amounts of food Ron was piling on his plate and that Hermione and Draco also ate normally. Well, they had not seen what he had seen. They had not been there, as the Prescotts had died in the flames. They had not felt the happiness surging through their bodies. They just thought that the Prescotts and their son Tony were other casualties of the war. This was true, but every person that died was one person too many. Harry had already too much blood on his hands and he did not want to add more.

Claiming that he was tired, Harry left the Great Hall before anyone else and went to his room. But instead of going straight to bed, he took out his new books and started to read, until sleep finally claimed him. This night, he did not visit Voldemort's mind.


	13. Of lies and protective instincts

**A/N: I'M SO SORRY THAT IT TOOK SO LONG!!! But due to stress in school, work, spending some valuable time with my friends, before they move again to their universities and that I have to go to physiotherapy almost every day after work my time to write fanfictions had been rather limited. But to make up for the long wait, you'll get an extra long chapter! I don't want to let you wait any longer, and because of that I put the answers to your reviews at the bottom of the chapter!**

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**Chapter 13: Of lies and protective instincts**

Two brooms were zooming around the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with their riders, racing back and forth as if chasing something. Suddenly, the leading broom was jerked to the left and urged into a dive long before the second one could react. Seeing that there was no chance of catching up at all, the second rider slowly flew to the ground, where the first had just landed, clutching a small golden ball in his hands.

Harry Potter stood on the ground, broom in one and the struggling Golden Snitch in the other hand, watching with a smug grin on his face how his father slowly touched down next to him.

"Now I know why I've never even tried out for Seeker," he said, as he got off the broom and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "My reflexes might be good, but spying the Snitch, in the chaos of a game nonetheless, would have been impossible. I'd rather prefer the Quaffle – large, handy and most of all visible for the normal eye."

Harry shrugged and rubbed a few sore ribs. "At least you don't get the wind knocked out of you as Seeker, when you know how to dodge the Bludgers, mind you. I think there'll be bruises tomorrow, where you hit me with the Quaffle."

"Well, it's not my fault that you're not able to catch a ball of this size," James laughed.

It had taken almost one month until Harry and James finally found time to test each other's skills at Quidditch. This Monday was the last day at Hogwarts before James and Lily wanted to leave the castle to live in their own house. The students would return the following day and they thought that they had stayed long enough. So father and son used this sunny afternoon to its fullest and mounted their brooms, with Lily and little Harry watching them. Lily had been furious, when James had suddenly halted next to her and taken one-month-old Harry on a few laps around the pitch. Harry thought that this had been a sight to behold – his mother stomping with her feet and yelling at his father, while little Harry was squealing with delight.

And once again he wished that everything would have been different for him. He wished that Voldemort had not killed his parents. Not for the first time he wished to be a normal young man, a normal wizard without the weight of the world resting on his shoulders. But he had had no say in this. Voldemort had chosen him instead of Neville, killed his parents and destroyed any chance of ever being normal that he had ever had.

"Are you alright?"

Harry looked up, having been torn out of his thoughts by his father. He forced a smile on his face and nodded. "I'm alright. Just been thinking, that's all." Letting his gaze wander around, he saw Lily, who was holding something in her right hand and waving at them. "Seems like she wants us to come to her," he said, glad that his mother had given him the possibility to avoid any questions his father might have.

"Well, then we shouldn't let her wait any longer," James replied and together they made their way across the Quidditch pitch to where Lily, who was still holding Harry, was standing.

"This just arrived," Lily said and showed them the piece of parchment, as they stopped in front of her. "It's from Albus. He wishes to see the three of us in his office. Now," she added with a small smile gracing her lips, when she saw the regretful look James and Harry were giving their brooms.

The two young men sighed in unison and Harry put the Golden Snitch back into the trunk, where the struggling Bludgers and the Quaffle where already stored. Harry quickly brought the trunk back to the changing rooms before he joined his parents in front of the main entrance and they walked to Dumbledore's office. James just wanted to tell the gargoyle the password, as it already sprung aside and a man all three of them knew too well came walking down the stairs. Harry felt his father tense remarkably, while his mother still smiled. He himself clearly did not know how to react, because in front of him was standing none other than Severus Snape.

"Potter," he drawled, focusing on James, after he had let his eyes wander over Lily, her little son and Harry.

"Snivellus. How _endearing_ to meet you here. I never expected to see you again at Hogwarts, so care to tell me what you are doing here?"

"This is not your business, Potter. Or," he said, as his gaze rested on Harry, "maybe it is. If you excuse me, I'm expected."

Without saying another word, Snape pushed past them, but in those few minutes Harry had noticed some astounding differences between this Snape and the Snape in his time. The most prominent difference was clearly that the black hair of this Snape was shiny, clean and elegantly tied back, a bit like his own, only that his were still incredibly messy, Harry thought, as he absentmindedly ran his left hand through his windswept hair that absolutely refused to remain in the hair-band. A few strands always fell out and into his face, but Harry had learned to live with this – at least those strands covered his scar a bit. However, another noticeable difference between the two Snapes were the eyes. While Snape's eyes in Harry's time were usually cold, calculating and bitter, the eyes of the other Snape still held some warmth. Only the sneer was the same, but this could be due to the dislike towards Harry and James respectively.

"Probably expected by his fellow Death Eaters," James muttered, pulling Harry out of his thoughts.

Lily put a comforting hand on her husband's shoulder. "Leave him, James. We should hurry, Albus is waiting," she said, motioning with her head to the still open staircase.

"You're right," James sighed and smiled at his wife. "Harry?"

"I'm coming," he told them and turned his head to them, away from the corridor where Snape had disappeared in. Another question had been formed in his head – was Snape already a spy for Dumbledore or was he still loyal to Voldemort? Was he even a Death Eater at this time or would he still become one? Suddenly the memory of a blond woman and a black-haired girl penetrated his thoughts – he had completely forgotten about them. He still had not found time to find out who they were, but vowed that he would make up for it soon. Maybe they were the key to answer his questions.

Hearing his father clearing his throat, Harry smiled at him apologetically and followed his parents up the stairs into Dumbledore's office. The old wizard was already seated behind his desk and three chairs were standing in front of it. The three of them sat down and after having declined the obligatory offer of a sherbet lemon, James spoke the question that was on his mind.

"What did Snape want?"

Albus Dumbledore gave James a look that clearly told him that he did not agree with the hateful and accusatory tone of James' voice, but answered his question nonetheless. "Mr. Snape had been here to apply for the post as professor for Defence against the Dark Arts. I had to tell him of course that this position was already taken. Yet, I assured him I would inform him as soon as a position that meets his requirements is open. However, this is not what I wished to discuss with you."

"It's because we are returning to Godric's Hollow tomorrow, isn't it?" Lily wanted to know.

"Indeed it is. I set up some additional wards around your property for your protection."

"I'm sorry, if I appear rude," James said confused, "but why? I think Lily and I have proven on more than one occasion that we are able to defend ourselves against Death Eaters and even Voldemort himself."

"Believe me, James, I know that. But it's not just because of you. It's also because of your son. Even while Lily was pregnant, she had been able to defend herself, but now that you have to look after one more person, a person that cannot defend himself at all, I deemed it necessary to improve the protection around your house. I assure you, those additional wards are only precautions, only a special kind of repelling charm, an alarming charm to let me know, when someone unbidden had found a way to avoid the repelling charm and so on. You see, nothing overly severe. _But_, if something grave happens that might endanger your safety, we have to take more serious measures."

"What do you mean?" Lily asked, and Harry could swear that she had a hard time to keep the worry that he could see on her face out of her voice. He, however, thought he knew what Dumbledore was talking about, but that he obviously wanted to wait to take this action made him question his intentions. Harry had thought that Dumbledore wanted to talk to his parents about the prophecy, but instead he let it sound as if nothing was wrong and that he had just erected the wards as _preventative measure, _just in case Voldemort decided to attack them.

"I'm talking about the Fidelius Charm – I assume you know about this charm?" Lily and James both nodded, while James gave Lily's hand a small squeeze. "But that's just if something happens, so I don't want you to think about this yet. Another thing I wanted to talk to you about, and this is now the reason why I asked Harry to attend this meeting, is the correspondence between Hogwarts and Godric's Hollow. I'm sure you and Harry wish to have as much contact as possible, so I want to warn you to be careful what to put in your letters. The consequences, if anything about your true relation gets in the hands of a Death Eater, would be disastrous, but I think you know that already."

"Of course, Albus, we'll be careful," Lily assured him with a smile on her face.

"Fabulous, that was all I wanted to discuss with you. You can go back now to whatever you were doing before I interrupted," Dumbledore told them with the ever-present twinkle in his eyes.

"You go ahead," Harry said, as James and Lily stood up. "I still need to talk to Albus about something…"

"Okay, we'll see you later," James called, as he and his wife left the office.

Before the door closed, Harry thought he heard them talking about helping someone with _a thing_, but did not think about it further, because now that they were alone he finally could take him to task about his intentions towards his parents.

"You didn't tell them", he said calmly and looked Dumbledore directly in the eyes.

"No, I didn't. They don't need to know yet, it's too early."

"Too early?" Harry asked outraged, as he jumped up and began to pace in the office. "You know that a part of the prophecy had been overheard, but still you don't tell them! Voldemort might already be planning his attack and still you don't tell them! What if it is different in this timeline and he attacks them next month, next week… what if he attacks them tomorrow and…" _kills them!_ Harry wanted to yell, but just remembered in time that Dumbledore did not know that his parents died in Voldemort's attack. He only knew about the scar and that Harry was the one destined to kill the Dark Lord.

"Harry, I guarantee that Voldemort doesn't know about the prophecy. I don't know how he found out in your time, but I know the eavesdropper and he is loyal."

"To whom?" Harry prompted.

Dumbledore sighed and Harry once again got a glimpse of the true age of the old wizard. "I would ask you to tell me who relayed the first part of the prophecy to Voldemort, but…"

"Even though you said so at our first meeting, you still are not completely sure if our appearance and meddling in this timeline changes something in mine. You still want to do a bit more research, before you are completely sure of this, besides, I couldn't tell you anyway, because I don't know the answer." _Just like I didn't know many other things, because you always thought it was too early to tell me,_ the thought, remembering his fifth year. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to keep his temper in check, before he continued with still closed eyes. "So, you think the eavesdropper is trustworthy, but that still doesn't explain why you didn't tell my parents about the prophecy, except for the fact that it is _too early_."

"Tell me Harry, how did you feel, when I, I mean the other me, first told you about it?"

Harry's eyes jerked open and he stared at Dumbledore with a disbelieving look on his face. "You- you can't compare this…" he spluttered. "The situation has been completely different. Si- someone very close to me had just died not even an hour before he dropped this bombshell on me. How do you think I felt?"

"Then let me put it this way… How do you feel now with this burden? Don't you long for a life, in which you don't have to worry about fighting _and killing_ Voldemort?"

"Of- of course I do, but… Who wouldn't?" Harry could not believe this. What was Dumbledore getting at?

"That's the point. Who wouldn't? Instead of burdening them with the prophecy now, I give your parents the chance at a normal life. But don't worry, I'll tell them, as soon as something happens that tells me it's time for them to know. I think you are doing something similar with your friends, because as far as I know, you haven't informed them of the prophecy either."

The young man looked straight at the Headmaster, daring him to continue. Telling his friends and telling his parents were two completely different things. His parents might die, because they did not know what it was about, that it even existed, while his friends might die, when they found out about it. Besides, this fight was his and not his friends', no matter how often they said that they would not leave his side. They could not defeat Voldemort, only Harry could, so not telling them about it made it easier to face him alone, to push them away, when he needed to. They would never let him go alone, if they knew that he most likely would not return. They would try to talk him out of going alone, say that there must be another way. But there wasn't – and Harry had accepted that. It was either him, Voldemort or both of them that would go down in the end and Harry also knew that his chances were not that good. Voldemort was still more powerful, but he hoped at least that he could take him with him, when it was time, so that his friends and surrogate family could live in peace.

"I don't ask you to accept my decision, only to respect it, since I'm confident that I haven't acted any differently in your time," Dumbledore continued in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

He stared into Dumbledore's almost pleading blue eyes and nodded stiffly, fighting the urge to rage at him more, but he wasn't a hormonal teenager anymore. From tomorrow on he would be teaching kids and arguing like this with the Headmaster would not earn him any respect. "Good day, Professor," he only said, before he turned around and left the office.

Hurrying down the corridors to the main entrance, he almost ran down the staircase to the entrance hall and headed outside to his favorite place on the Hogwarts grounds, the lone tree at the lake, where he sat down in the sun, leaning against the tree. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a quick wave of his hand, being too lazy to take out his wand, before he took a long, calming drag and exhaled the grey-bluish smoke. His hands were still shaking with anger, as the argument between him and Dumbledore replayed in his head. But it was not just the argument he had had with the Headmaster only minutes ago, no, he also remembered bits and pieces of the argument he had with Dumbledore at the end of his fifth years, shortly after the _incident_ in the Department of Mysteries.

It had taken Harry a long time after that, almost the full length of sixth year, to be able to trust Dumbledore again. He could remember how angry he had been at Dumbledore, for not telling him those important things, how he had blamed him for Sirius' death. Harry had tried to avoid him as much as possible at first, be it at Grimmauld Place during the last weeks of the holidays, or at Hogwarts. During the Welcoming Feast and Dumbledore's speech, Harry had ignored him completely and his anger at him had only risen, when he had noticed the sad and tired looks Dumbledore had given him then.

Shortly after his sixth year had begun, Dumbledore had called Harry into his office to discuss further tutoring in Occlumency. This time the Headmaster had wanted to teach him himself, but Harry had declined, asking if he knew someone else, who could teach him. When the Headmaster had shaken his head, Harry had only said, "Ask Professor Snape. No matter how much I hate him, my hatred towards you is still bigger. If he refuses, tell him that this time, I'm _actually willing_ to learn something, because now I know what I have to protect and why I have to keep Voldemort out of my mind. If he still refuses, you just have to find someone else, but I won't let _you_ teach me." Most surprisingly, Snape had not refused and so Harry had spent four nights a week in the dungeons, learning Occlumency and at the same time picking up skills at Legilimency. The young wizard had noticed his improvements with each passing night – his scar had stopped hurting, his visits to Voldemort's mind had become fewer and fewer until he had been able to sleep through the night without any interruptions.

So it was, when the Christmas holidays neared and Harry had applied for staying at the castle, while Ron and Ginny were spending Christmas at Grimmauld Place and Hermione with her parents, that Dumbledore had once again called him into his office. Harry had expected that the Headmaster had wanted to force him to go to Grimmauld Place for the holidays, but he had never expected his true intentions. After Dumbledore had told him about them, Harry could only stare at the Headmaster, not knowing if he should be happy or once again angry. "Yes Harry, Professor Snape told me, quite impressed, if I may say so, that you are finally able to conceal your mind, which doesn't mean that your tutoring is over yet, because I'm sure that Professor Snape still knows techniques to teach you, but you are now advanced enough to partake in Order meetings. It is, as you told me once, your fight, after all and I'm sorry that I haven't seen this before. You are an extraordinary young man, Harry and by far experienced enough to be a member of the Order of Phoenix."

For the first time in months, Harry had looked at Dumbledore with something resembling gratitude in the eyes and had mouthed, "Thank you." The first meeting Harry had attended had been on Christmas Eve. Despite all protests from Ron and Ginny, Harry had stayed at Hogwarts, finishing his assignments and flooed to Grimmauld Place just minutes before the meeting had started. Many heads had turned, when he had stepped inside the drawing room, but Dumbledore had welcomed him with a warm smile and then informed the other members of their new addition. There had been some protests, mostly from Molly Weasley, but in the end they had to accept that Harry was now a part of the Order of Phoenix. After the highly interesting meeting, Harry had spent the night at Grimmauld Place, surprising Ron and Ginny, who had not expected him to come over Christmas, but when he had then told them about his membership in the Order, Ron had only been able to say one word, "Blimey!"

So slowly Harry had started to trust Dumbledore again. The old wizard had done everything in his powers to keep Harry informed about the happenings and had let him attend as many meetings as possible, when it was conformable with his timetable and his exams. He had given Harry access to the restricted section of the library to prepare for the inevitable fight and had also hired several private tutors to help him from time to time.

Also, on the Sunday after the exams, shortly before the summer holidays had started and Harry would once again and hopefully for the last time, be _released_ into the _care_ of the Dursleys, Dumbledore had done the one thing Harry would always be grateful for and had helped him to finally forgive the Headmaster fully – he had brought him to Godric's Hollow, to Lily's and James' resting place. Until the last moment, Harry had not known where they were going, but as soon as they had passed the gates to the cemetery, a dull feeling had settled in Harry's stomach. First when they had stopped in front of a grey gravestone, Harry had understood. He had fallen to his knees and had traced the inscription of his parents' names and the dates of their births and deaths. For sixteen long years he had not once thought about looking for their graves or even asking someone where they had been buried. Since his parents had always been a tender subject with the Dursleys, it had never even occurred to him to ask and also at school it had never crossed his mind. Harry had looked up at Dumbledore and suddenly had not seen the wizard that had lied to him and taken almost everyone he had ever cared for from him. He had seen an old man that had made a grave mistake, but who wanted to make it up again.

"I thought that maybe you wanted to see this," Dumbledore had said. "They were truly wonderful people, Harry. I wished you could have known them."

"Thank you," Harry had only whispered, still not taking his eyes from the headstone. "I don't know how I can thank you for this."

"You don't need to thank me. I'm just an old man trying to right the things I've done wrong, to make up for past mistakes. I only try to earn your forgiveness…"

"Forgiveness can't be earned," Harry had said and looked up at Dumbledore, whose face had fallen at those words. "Forgiveness can only be given and… I forgive you…" At that moment, Harry could have sworn that a single tear had rolled down the old wizard's face and disappeared in his long beard. A tear of relief.

"T's beautiful, isn' it? I always love ter see 'er disappearin' behind the mountains…"

Harry raised his head startled, not having noticed anything around him, so deep had he been in thoughts, and saw that he was right now sitting in a large shadow. He squinted against the orange corona surrounding the huge person in front of him and immediately recognized him. There was only one person this large at Hogwarts.

"Yeh mus' be Harry, James' cousin. Dumbledore told me all 'bout yeh and the trouble yeh went through. Also read the articles in the Prophet, all nonsense if yeh ask me. Dumbledore says yeh're no threat, so yeh aren'. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds," the half-giant introduced himself. "Bu' everyone calls me Hagrid."

"I'm Harry, but you obviously know that already," he said, smiling at his old friend.

"I would've recognized you're related to James, even if Dumbledore didn' tell me 'bout yeh. Yeh look just like him, just the 'air is a bit lon' and yeh wear no glasses."

"If you want to see my cousin, Lily and their son you should go up to them soon. They're leaving tomorrow," Harry told him.

"Nah, tomorrow's time 'nough. Just came back from a mission and I'm tired." As if to prove his point, Hagrid let out a wide, loud yawn. "Sorry 'bout tha'. T's been a lon' day. Just wanted ter get out, take a look 'round the grounds, see if everything's alrigh'. Mind if I join yeh?" Hagrid asked and motioned with frantic movements to the space next to Harry.

He shook his head. "Not at all." The earth trembled a bit, when Hagrid sat down, but that did not bother Harry at all.

"Dumbledore's a grea' man fer lettin' 'em stay at Hogwarts."

"Yeah, he is," Harry mumbled and suddenly he started to sink again into one of his thoughtful moods. He absentmindedly lit another cigarette and shook his head. It would do him no good to brood, as Ron had started to call his habit of becoming thoughtful from one moment to another. Instead he tried to change the subject. "I heard you are great with animals."

"Well, yea', I think. Most animals in the Forbidden Forest don' dare ter attack me and I, meself, have a small boarhound fer 'bout half a year now. Named him Fang," Hagrid told him. "But me biggest wish is ter have a dragon as pet."

Harry chuckled slightly, remembering Norbert, the dragon Hagrid had wanted to keep as a pet in their first year, but suddenly, not knowing why, he sighed and the next words just seemed to tumble out of his mouth. "I had a dog once, large and black. His name was Snuffles. He died when I was almost sixteen. I'd known him for only two years and still it hurt terribly, when he died."

"How did he die?" the half-giant wanted to know, seemingly completely enrapt by this story.

"He fell," Harry only said. "He fell and I couldn't save him."

"'M sorry 'bout that. Sometimes, when an animal in the forest dies, I can hear the others cry for him. T's not a pretty sound an' I always get sad, when I hear 'em."

They remained silent for a moment, each of them watching the last rays of the sun disappear behind the mountains. When the sun was completely gone, Harry looked around and suddenly he saw someone walking towards them.

"There you are. I've been looking for you everywhere. And didn't I tell you to throw those things away?" Hermione asked, but even though she sounded disapproving, there was, as always, when she breached this subject, a smile on her face.

"Hermione, this is Hagrid, the Keeper of Keys and Grounds," Harry introduced them, as he and Hagrid got up. "Hagrid, this is Hermione. She's going to teach Transfiguration as substitute for Professor McGonagall."

"Nice ter meet yeh, Hermione," Hagrid said, grasping her small hand in his large one.

"Nice to meet you, too, Hagrid." Hermione smiled at him. Up until now, he had been one of the persons that she had missed the most in the castle.

"Well then, I think I better go back ter me hut, get some sleep. I hope I'll be seeing yeh 'round," Hagrid told them.

Both Harry and Hermione said goodbye to Hagrid, before the half-giant went back to his hut and they returned to the castle. On the way to their common room, Harry noticed that Hermione was somehow nervous and unusually silent and wondered, if something was wrong. "You said you've been looking for me. Why?"

"Honestly Harry," the young woman shook her head smiling. "Did you forget that we wanted to go through your lessons plan one last time tonight?"

"Ehm…" As a matter of fact, he could not remember talking to Hermione about this, but before he could say anything, they were standing in front of the painting to their common room. Hermione said the password and went inside, after the painting swung open. The first thing Harry noticed was that it was incredible dark inside. Instinctively he willed his wand into his hand and just wanted to mutter, "Lumos," as all lights inside the common room flared up and he was welcomed with a loud,

"Surprise!"

* * *

Harry was sitting in one of the red stuffed chairs, holding a glass of Firewhiskey between his palms and followed the old and quite worn Golden Snitch that he had gotten from his father, flutter around the room. This party had been Ron's and Hermione's idea and his parents had only been too eager to join in the preparations. A belated birthday party they had called it, since his had been cut rather short by Voldemort's attack. Harry did not complain, not at all, but this whole thing had surprised him a lot. Hence the term surprise party. Not many people were there, only those that knew of their situation, namely the four time travelers, his parents, who had left little Harry in the care of his godfather, and Molly and Arthur Weasley had been invited. 

Since they had appeared in this time, Harry had only thought once that the day they had been brought back had been his birthday, and this had been, when he had told Dumbledore how many years they had traveled back in time. After that there had been much more important things than his birthday that he had had to think of.

Once again, Harry felt a great deal of affection for his friends. Ever since the fight in the Department of Mysteries they had tried their best to cheer him up, even though they had had their own problems. Somehow he thought that he had not always been the friend they deserved to have and that he had never shown him how grateful he was for their friendship. Whenever they were with him, they were in danger. They went with him into the lion's den and never complained about it. They stood by his side despite everything that had happened. No matter how much danger they were in, they were always there. This pleased and at the same time scared him. Harry knew that it would only be a matter of time until he lost one of them, if he did not defeat Voldemort soon.

At least, here and now, he hoped they were safe. He remembered Hagrind telling him, when he had first met him, that Voldemort had never dared to attack Hogwarts, though Dumbledore had never told him this. According to the half-giant, the attack in their seventh year had been the first one. But then again, it had never occurred to him to ask Dumbledore about this small fact to confirm what Hagrid had told him. However, though the Headmaster had been a lot more forthcoming with information during his last two school years and the Order meetings later, he was sure that the old Headmaster had not told him everything, out of fear to hurt him and drive him away again – though he did not know if this information would have hurt him. Just as Harry had, as Hermione had put it, a _saving-people thing_, Dumbledore had a _protecting-people thing_. And just as Harry had unintended endangered his friends, he was sure that Dumbledore had also endangered people with this _thing_.

Glancing around the room, Harry noticed that his friends and family were all merrily talking and drinking with each other and that none of them was paying him any attention, so he got up and disappeared in his room, where he put the half-full glass on the desk and looked out of the window. It was already completely dark and the only way to discern the Forbidden Forest was because it was still a lot darker than the night sky. There was no light in Hagrid's hut, so Harry assumed that he had indeed turned in early.

From the window, he let his gaze wander around the room. So, this would now be his new home for an indefinite amount of time. It could be months or years until they found a way to return to their own time. It could be never. It might very well be that they were stuck in this time with no way to return. But what would he do then? Directly after their first talk with Dumbledore, Harry had been ready to do everything to keep his parents alive, but then, later, the Headmaster had warned them to keep any information that might change this timeline more than their appearance already had, to themselves until he had verified his theory that their timeline would not be changed at all. Now Harry was forced to keep silent, not being able to help his parents at all. He truly hoped that Dumbledore would find out soon that he was right, so that Harry could at least save his parents in this timeline. But until then he had to look at them without being able to tell them anything, hoping against hope that they would not suffer the same fate as _his_ parents.

"May I come in?"

Harry turned around and saw his father standing in the door to his room. "Of course…"

"This room is nice," James commented, as he closed the door and stepped into the room. "Almost nicer than the one Lily and I had. And the view isn't all too bad, even though I would have preferred the Quidditch pitch." He squinted against the darkness, but when he accepted that he could not see anything, he turned back to his son. "What's wrong?" Before Harry could open his mouth, James continued, "And don't tell me nothing's wrong. I may not know you as well yet as your friends or your own parents do, but I'm not blind and I _can _see, when my son is troubled. So, what is it?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. There are many small things that are bothering me…"

"And one big thing, if I'm not mistaken. See, I think I already know you better than you think." James grinned, when he saw the stunned look on his grown-up son's face. "Sometimes when we talk, I get the feeling that you're just dying to tell me something, but you can't, out of fear that it might change something. Don't worry about this, I'm sure that someday you'll be able to tell us, as soon as Albus finally finds out what the consequences of your travel really are."

Harry could only stare at his father. Whenever he had seen him in the memories of people that had known him, he had never seen him this insightful. This was a completely new side to his father that he just got to know. While James' words slowly started to sink in, many others emerged in his mind, so, after a brief moment of silence, he sputtered, "Dumbledore is keeping something from you, too."

"I know," James only said and turned again to look out of the window. "But I trust Albus and believe that, in the end, everything will turn out fine. I'm not even sure I want to hear already, what he's keeping from us, if I'm ready to hear it. But he will tell us, when he thinks it's time for us to know."

"Aren't you angry with him that he has secrets that concern you?"

"Angry with him? No. I know that his tidings aren't good ones, and I want to enjoy my life with Lily and little Harry as long as possible. If I've learned one thing in the last years, then it is to live in the now. Seize the moment, because you don't know if you'll live to see the next day. If Voldemort or some of his Death Eaters suddenly decide to kill me tomorrow, I want to die with the knowledge that I haven't wasted one single moment in my life. I don't know if I'd live like that, knowing that something bad will happen." James shook his head. "No, that's not how I want to die…"

Harry could not look at his father at that moment, not after those words. Was Harry truly overreacting to the prophecy? He could not imagine to live a normal life with the prophecy always in the back of his mind, reminding him again and again that one day it will come down to _kill or be killed_. Would the last few years have been different, if Dumbledore had never told him about the prophecy? Would it have been different, if he had known about it ever since he had found out about his true heritage? Of course it would have been different, for better and for worse. If he had not known about the prophecy, he probably still would have wanted to kill Voldemort, but he would not carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, knowing that, if he failed, the world would be lost. However, if he had known the contents of the prophecy from the very beginning, he most likely would have never made friends with Ron and Hermione. He would have wanted to be alone, train alone, fight alone and die alone, so that no one needed to mourn him.

"Do you see what I mean?" James asked, when the look on Harry's face told him that he had understood his words. "I've never been good in Divination, but I know that God, or whoever's up there, has a plan for all of us and I pity those who know what destiny has in store for them." He clapped Harry on his shoulder and walked past him. "Think about it."

When Harry heard the door close again behind him, a small smile crept on his face. His father was right, but even though Harry knew that the chances that he would not get out of this alive were higher than fifty percent, he now decided that he would make most of the time that he had still left. He would not leave this plane of existence without leaving something behind. As long as he was still alive, he would try to live.

_For neither can live while the other survives._

He would show them all, and most of all Voldemort, that he would not let some prophecy rule his life!

With this thought in mind and a smile on his face, Harry took his glass from the desk and left his room, joining his friends at _his_ birthday party.

* * *

**Phew, this chapter had somehow been really hard to write and I'm not sure if I can be all to proud of it, but it was necessary... However, I have known since the beginning that it would be difficult to write Hagrid's peculiar dialect, but that it would be that difficult? Hope I managed it... **

**But now the answers to your reviews:**

**_Riannya:_**** Your idea sounds interesting, but unfortunately I have this part of the story already completely planned out. Maybe, if you have the energy to put this into a fic, you could tell me?**

**Before I forget: The review button is just below and I would be incredibly happy, if you left one for me small comment for me…**


	14. The Welcoming Feast

**A/N: I think this chapter got out fast than the last one, but I'm still sorry… However, I would ask you to take a look at my profile, because I posted a very important note there concerning my future updates!**

**But now****, have fun with this chapter!**

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**Chapter 14: The Welcoming Feast**

Harry had been called many things in his young life. He had been the loved son of Lily and James Potter, _The Boy Who Lived_, simply _boy_ or the _nuisance that doesn't appreciate a single thing_. He had been the freak, the hero, the celebrity, the youngest Seeker in a century, the enemy, the champion, the liar, then again The Boy Who Lived and later The Man Who Fought. But never, not even during his time as leader of the DA, had he been called _Professor_, not until now.

He looked around the Great Hall, chewing his lips nervously. The four house tables were neatly lined up and laid with golden goblets and plates. Lit candles were floating just high enough above the tables so that no one would get burned by accident and the enchanted ceiling showed the starlit sky and the almost full moon.

_Remus__ surely doesn't feel well tonight,_ Harry assumed, but this thought quickly fled his mind, as he got nudged into his side by Ron, who nodded at the large wooden doors. His red haired friend looked a bit pale around his nose, so he tried to give him an encouraging smile – tried being the key word, for Harry thought that the smile had to resemble a grimace. He looked past Ron at Draco, who, even though he appeared to be completely calm and collected, was also a bit paler than usual. The only one of the four time travellers, who seemed to be completely at ease with the current situation, was Hermione, who chatted amiably and excitedly with Christophe Hayden about the upcoming term. Harry knew he should not be surprised, Hermione had, after all, a head start of three years on them.

After glancing at his watch and then again at the doors, he exchanged another, rather desperate look with Ron. _Any minute now…_ As soon as Harry had finished this thought, the doors opened and in streamed students of all ages, who immediately sat down at their respective tables. He noticed at once the two read heads, who were sitting down in the middle of the Gryffindor table - the shorter one with the stocky built and the short red hair must be Charlie Weasley and the other one his older brother Bill. The oldest of the Weasley brothers was already quite tall and it appeared that he had already started to let his bright red hair grow to the length that his mother would come to hate. It was already long enough to be put into a small ponytail with the strands that did not yet fit into the hair band hanging freely down in front of his ears.

"Mom and dad told me that it's Charlie's third and Bill's fourth year," Ron whispered.

Just a short moment after everyone had settled down, Professor McGonagall walked in through the double doors, followed by a bunch of scared looking first-years. Harry watched, how they all stared at their surroundings and the ceiling in amazement and remembered clearly his own thoughts and feelings, when he had been one of them. How scared he had been then! Afraid of displaying some magic that he did not know yet in front of the whole school or of fighting a troll to be sorted into a house. He truly had not known what to expect, as probably did many of those first-years down there. McGonagall put the four-legged stool in front of them and placed the Sorting Hat on it.

Seeing the first-years and everyone else in the Great Hall looking interested at the Sorting Hat, which would start to sing its song any moment, made him feel a bit nostalgic. Seven years had he sat down there with his fellow students and enjoyed the Welcoming Feast – well, that was not entirely right. He remembered all too well the beginning of his second year, when he and Ron had missed the train and instead taken the illegally bewitched Ford Anglia of Ron's father to get to Hogwarts. He had been so sure then that they would be expelled, but instead they had only gotten detention and had to go straight to their dormitories after having eaten in Snape's office. And then, in third year, his visit to McGonagall's office after the Dementor-incident on the train, when he had missed the sorting. But except for those two times, Harry had not missed a single Welcoming Feast and Sorting.

Suddenly, the Great Hall, as well as every teacher at the staff table, excluding him, erupted in applause and for a moment Harry was confused, but then saw Professor McGonagall holding a roll of parchment in her hands. Had he actually been that deep in thoughts to miss the Sorting Hat's song? Obviously… Shaking his head, he now turned his attention to the actual Sorting. First now he noticed that there were fewer students to be sorted than when he had been eleven years old. The number of first-years was about as high as during his last two years at Hogwarts, when Voldemort's second rise had become public knowledge.

After _Zeller, Timothy_ had been sorted into Ravenclaw and welcomed by his house table, Professor McGonagall removed the chair and hat and took her place at the staff table, just as Dumbledore rose to hold his annual speech.

"Welcome everyone!" he greeted the students with a bright smile on his face. "Since there's much to say and I see that you are nearly starved after having eaten the whole Hogwarts Express out of sweets, I'm going to say only one thing for now – diringdibumbum!"

Once again the Hall broke into applause and laughter, but everyone quickly quieted down, as all sorts of food magically appeared on the table and the students and teachers heartily filled their plates. If the whole situation were different, Harry could have actually enjoyed the Feast, but as it was, he only poked with his fork in his roast potatoes and pork chops. Even the first-years ate like there was no tomorrow, now that the most exciting thing for that night was over. Well, the most interesting thing for them anyway.

Not once did he look up from his plate, but he could hear some students near the staff table talk about the _new professors_. He was sure that most of them had read the articles in the _Prophet_ and was afraid what they might think of him and the others. If they believed what the _Prophet_ had written about them, then it would be hard to teach them anything. Harry himself knew how hard it was to learn something from a teacher that you hate – he had enough experience with Snape and Umbridge. He could only hope that those students would give them a chance to prove themselves, no matter how hard it would be, given the current situation.

All too soon for Harry's liking, the tables cleared up and everyone quieted down, as Dumbledore once again stood up. "Very well, now that we are all sated and tired, I want to give you the usual start-of-term notices. First years, and also some students in the higher years, should note that the Forbidden Forest is, as its name already says, forbidden." His twinkling blue eyes wandered around, before he continued. "Our caretaker Mr. Filch also asked me to announce that you are not allowed to use magic in the halls between the classes and that there's a list of all forbidden items in his office, if you care to take a look at it. Quidditch tryouts will be held in the second week of term, which our new Flying Instructor will supervise. He will inform the team captains, when their tryouts will take place. And finally, on a happier note, I will now introduce to you five new teachers. First there is Professor Sybill Trelawney for Divination, who isn't here tonight. She'd rather preferred to have dinner in her tower, so that the many auras in the Great Hall won't disturb her visions." Harry noticed a small tug at the Headmaster's lips, as he said this, and some of the other teachers snorted, Hermione being the loudest of them. "And then there are four new teachers, of whom you've probably already heard and read much – however, before I introduce them to you, I still need to say some things. I already told the reporters and I tell you again – none of them is a Death Eater or in any way involved in the attack on the home of Messrs Bill and Charlie Weasley. As a matter of fact, one of them is even related to them. This gentleman is Professor Ronald Weasley, your new Flying Instructor."

Ron got up with a nervous smile on his face and waved at the students. Some of the girls, mostly the older ones, started to giggle and point at him, and Harry hoped that they would not react like that each time one of them was introduced. Unfortunately, his prayers were not answered, because as soon as Ron had sat down again, it was his turn.

"Your new teacher for Defence against the Dark Arts will be Professor Harry Potter. Some of the older students might still know, if in person or by legend, his cousin James Potter." The students who had heard of James Potter and his friends and what they had done during their Hogwarts days, applauded loudly, and again most of the older girls started to whisper to their best friends and giggle behind hands. Harry felt his cheeks heat up and only vaguely registered that he got up and nodded at the students, before he sat down again. He was glad, when Dumbledore finally continued. "Professor Eirian Draconis will be your new Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House (Draco received about the same reaction as Ron and Harry and appeared to be openly enjoying it) and Professor Hermione Granger will replace Professor McGonagall at least for the current school year in her position as Transfiguration professor and Head of Gryffindor House."

This time it was the male population of Hogwarts that erupted in catcalls. And again, contrary to Ron and him, Hermione seemed to be completely at ease with the attention she was getting. _Probably again those three years she has on us, _Harry thought. _At least it seems as if most of the students don't hate us._

After having introduced them, Dumbledore animated the students to sing the school song (the Headmaster's voice seemed to be the loudest, as he was singing to the tune of _O Fortuna_ of the opera _Carmina__ Burana_), before he wished everyone a good night and the Prefects led the students to their dormitories.

The time travellers also excused themselves quickly, as the other professors sat down at the round table that had suddenly appeared again in front of the staff table to talk some more, and headed to their common room.

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As Harry was finally lying in his warm and comfortable four-poster bed, he replayed again everything that had happened that day. In the morning, he had gotten up early to have one last breakfast with his parents, before they left, despite the fact that he had gotten to bed just a few hours previously. After breakfast, he had looked after little Harry, while his parents had been gathering their belongings and storing them into two large trunks – one for Lily and James and one for the toys, clothes and other stuff of little Harry.

It was around noon that it was eventually time to say goodbye. Harry, his parents and friends, Hagrid and Dumbledore had been assembled at the magnificent iron wrought gates to the Hogwarts grounds, waiting for one of the carriages. The carriages appeared to be horseless to most of the students, but were in reality pulled by beings called Thestrals that could only be seen by people who have witnessed death. It had arrived just a short time later and after a hug from his mother and a strong handshake from his father and after Hagrid had taken care of the trunks, they got into the carriage and drove off.

That afternoon, Harry, Hermione and Ron had agreed to help decorating the Great Hall for the arrival of the students, but after this had been done – it had only taken about half an hour – they had gone to their common rooms. Draco had been there, lying on the couch and reading yet another book about potions, as they had climbed through the portrait hole. As soon as Hermione had stepped inside, she had disappeared in her room and come out seconds later with pieces of parchment, which she started to study the moment she had sat down in one of the armchairs. Harry and Ron had only shrugged and the redhead had gotten his chessboard. Soon Draco had joined them, urging the chessmen on to destroy each other, no matter whose they were, as did Ron and Harry, only for their own figures. Hermione, feeling bothered by the noise of three grown-up men yelling at the tiny chessmen as if they were first-years, had quickly retreated into her room, where she could revise her notes in peace and had first appeared again, when it had been time to go into the Great Hall.

With his thoughts wandering to the Welcoming Feast and the reactions of the students, Harry finally drifted off…

_He was running, running through the halls of the castle, past portraits and armours, which started to giggle, laugh or squeak, as he passed them. He looked back and, much to his horror, noticed that he had not lost his pursuers. Screaming and giggling girls, from first to seventh year, were following him, yelling his name. Suddenly, just in time, he skidded to a halt, as huge chessmen were blocking his path. He turned his head to his left and to his right, searching for an escape and, as if by magic, a wall suddenly disappeared and he could now see stairs. Hurrying down the stairs, he arrived in a large hall he had never seen before. The floor was made of black marble and high black pillars were supporting the heavy stone ceiling. _

_"Oh, my little Harry, being chased by so many girls…"_

_He turned his head to where the voice had come from and was surprised to see his parents, Lily holding little Harry, just about fifteen feet in front of him. They were both wearing black robes, even his baby-self. "Mom? Dad? Wha…?"_

_Before he could finish the question, the girls had caught up to him and two of them were pushing him onto a throne that had not been there before. Dumbfounded he sat there and watched how the girls, now also all wearing black robes, joined his parents and knelt down. _

_"I'm sorry, my Lord." All of sudden another person was kneeling in front of him, dressed like the others and wearing a white mask, between him and everyone else. "I tried to get in, but I wasn't able to convince him to hire me."_

_"You've disappointed me," Harry heard himself say and his own, hissing voice sent a shiver down his spine. "Crucio…"_

_The curse was barely louder than a whisper, but it still had the desired effect. The man on the ground started to scream and to writhe, but got up again into a kneeling position, as the curse was lifted. "My Lord," he panted. "I probably have other tidings to make up for my failure. What the _Prophet_ has written is true. Dumbledore has employed the four strangers as teachers for Defense against the Dark Arts, Potions, Transfiguration and Flying. I also saw one of them and he has a remarkably resemblance to James Potter. Dumbledore told me that they are cousins, but I don't know of any Potters that look so much like him. I think this other Potter might pose a threat."_

_"What do you suggest?" The hissing voice sounded at least partly pleased with this development._

_"The old fool offered to tell me, when a spot is open that meets my requirements."_

_"Then I think you know what you have to do."_

_"Yes, my Lord." The man struggled to get to his feet and then walked through a passage that the other persons in the hall had cleared for him, with a slight limp. _

_"Oh, and Severus?"__ Harry heard himself call. The man stopped and turned around. "You know that, if you disappoint me again, it won't be you to suffer the Cruciatus." _

_Severus__ Snape's whole body tensed and an image of a petite and pretty woman with straight ash-blond hair and a small girl with black hair flashed in front of Harry's inner eye._

With this image still fresh in his mind, Harry woke up with a start. He tried to even his breathing and concentrated to protect his mind. The mind numbing pain in his scar slowly faded and Harry finally managed to relax. It had been a long time, since he had been in Voldemort's mind like this and he was not used anymore to how his body reacted to those visits. Maybe he should start again to use Occlumency to keep his mind out of Voldemort's and probably also the other way around – he still had no idea how the connection in this time worked. Or maybe not. Maybe studying the Voldemort from this time as long as he could might help him to defeat the one from his time, if – no, when, they finally found a way to go back.

On all accounts he had found out one important thing – Snape was already a Death Eater. Unfortunately he had not found out if Peter was one, too. But maybe he sill would, if he did not use Occlumency. This was just another reason for not telling his friends and Dumbledore about the connection to this Voldemort – they would just tell him to shield his mind. However, Harry thought that he was finally able to discern if something really happened or if it was just a trick. And the image of the woman and the girl that Voldemort had received from Snape was real.

Shaking his head, Harry slipped out of the bed and got dressed into black jeans and a black sweater. A quick glance at his watch told him that it was three o'clock in the morning, too early to get up, but he also could not go to sleep anymore. So, after having put on his boots, he grabbed his wand, muttered, "Lumos," and sneaked out of his room and the common room.

The whole castle was silent and out of habit Harry wished he had his invisibility cloak with him, when he suddenly remembered that he was now a professor and did not need to justify himself. This thought brought a small grin on his face, which only got bigger, as he saw a cat rounding one of the corners, probably now going to Filch to report that someone is wandering the halls. And Harry was right – just a few minutes later, Filch came around another corner, lantern in his hand and muttering, "Yes, my dear… Someone is close, someone is…"

"Hello Mr. Filch," Harry greeted him friendly, trying hard to keep the mischievous smile from his face.

"Oh, Professor, I'm sorry… I thought you were a student… You haven't seen one by any chance?" Filch's somewhat hopeful face darkened, when Harry shook his head. "Well then, come on, Mrs. Norris, there must be some students out at night…" he muttered and went back the same way he had come.

Once again shaking his head, Harry went on for a few more minutes and finally stopped in front a wooden door, which he opened. At once the musty smell of books reached his nose and he walked through the shelves until he reached the section of the yearbooks. He held the tip of his wand closely to the spines of the books to read the years, pulled the ones from 1973 to 1978 out and lit one of the lanterns on a table. The chair grated against the stone floor as he pulled it out and when he opened the first book dust whirled up, causing Harry to sneeze once or twice. "Bless you," he mumbled to himself and finally began to leaf through the book.

Since he carefully looked at each and every picture it took some time until he finished one and then another. It was in the third book that suddenly the same ash-blond woman he had already seen in Diagon Alley and this night in his vision, only five years younger, looked up at him from one of the pictures. For a moment, there was a confused expression on her black and white face, as he stared at her, but then waved at him, smiling. He smiled back and then looked at the name written below the picture – _Clara Kensington, Ravenclaw. Best N.E.W.T.s results: Outstanding in Potions, Herbology, Ancient Runes; Exceeds Expectations in History of Magic, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfigurations_.

And then, beneath those facts, there was another note. Harry glanced at another picture and saw that there was also one, before his eyes focused again on Clara. It was a message from the person's (in this case Clara's) best friends – _We're sure we'll never understand why you chose him, but may you find happiness with Sev._

So it was true. This woman and Snape had been an item at school, even after he had graduated, since he must be about two years older than her, and were now married with a child. And another one was on its way, he remembered seeing her and the small girl in Diagon Alley. Now this was news he had to digest first – he had never known that Snape had been married. However, at least now Harry knew where he had seen her before – it must have been during one of his Occlumency lessons, when he had unexpectedly penetrated Snape's mind. He only wondered what had happened that they had broken up. She had seemed so happy, when he had seen her. Maybe she had found out about her husband being a Death Eater – she certainly did not look like one and he had not seen the Dark Mark on her arm. It was possible, but he would most likely never find out the truth. After all, it was Snape's business, not his. Harry had wanted to find out who this mysterious woman was and the things that he had found out were highly interesting. But he would not tell his friends about it – if the Snape of his time wanted to keep Clara and the girl, Jocelyn, a secret, then so be it.

With this thought in mind, Harry closed the book, put the others back into the shelves and clamped the one of the year 1975 under his arm. After having extinguished the lantern, he once again lit the tip of his wand and made his way back to his room through the dark halls of Hogwarts, hoping that, after having calmed down from his vision, he would be able to get some sleep before he had to rise again. The next day promised to become strenuous.

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**I hope you don't mind that I haven't written the Sorting Hat's song, because rhyming? No way! I can't do that! I tried but gave up after a few lines, because it turned out to become horrible!**

**Next chapter: Harry's very first Defence Against the Dark Arts class – as teacher!**


	15. Facing your fears

**A/N: Here you are, finally a new chapter! The last two days I finally again had some time to breathe, whereas the weekend and the days before had been pure horror for me and I swear that I have never studied so much in my entire life as I do now for the exams in March (I swear that yesterday morning my head was about to explode!). But tomorrow in three weeks everything will be over – well, at least the written tests, the other is sometime in June… However, school started again two weeks ago, and not only do I have to study for the exams, I also now have to study for the usual classroom tests, yay me! At least I got one back today, with 100! I think it does have its advantages to study this hard, even though I don't think that I will be doing nearly as well in my exams. Whatever, as you can see I used my spare free time to finally get this chapter out, so I hope you like it at least a bit! A short comment about this would be nice and appreciated, as always! J A huge thank you and a hug for all of you, who left a review!**

**Oh, before I forget… I just wanted to mention that I already have a (very) rough outline for a sequel in my head, as well as the title for it. If someone wants to know the title already, though I can't guarantee that I won't change it, just send me an email!**

**But now****, have fun with this chapter! **

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**Chapter 15: Facing your fears **

"Bloody hell, Harry, wake up!"

Pulling the blanket over his head, Harry tried to will the pounding on his door to stop. He felt as if he had not slept at all and the only thing he wanted right now was to sleep some more, preferably until noon or longer without being disturbed by anything or anyone.

"Harry, classes start in about half an hour!" This time it was Hermione who tried to get his attention. Trust her to be the one calling on his conscience and letting him remember, what day today was. It certainly would not make a good impression, if he were late on his very first day as Defence against the Dark Arts professor.

"I'm up! I'm up," he growled, as he pulled the blanket back and swung his legs over the edge of his bed, running a hand over his face to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He grabbed his watch from the nightstand and indeed, cursing under his breath, he noticed that there was barely half an hour left until classes started. Not enough time to get showered _and_ have breakfast. "Go ahead," he called through the closed door, at the same time gathering some clothes and heading into his bathroom. "I'm going to meet you at lunch!" The only thing he heard before he threw the door to his bathroom shut behind him, were one muffled _Okay_ from Ron and one _Don't__ be late _from Hermione.

When Harry was sitting in his new classroom twenty minutes later his stomach was protesting forcefully and he wondered, if it had been the right idea to skip breakfast. Then again, maybe his stomach would have protested even more at the sight of food, seeing as he was still quite nervous about this whole teaching thing. In less than ten minutes students – fourth year Gryffindor and Ravenclaw – would stream into this classroom, expecting him to teach them something interesting. He had not talked to Dumbledore about what he was planning and he hoped that the students would not freak – too much.

Just as he was once again letting his eyes wander over the few notes he had prepared for this class, the first students piled into the classroom. Harry was pleased to notice that Bill Weasley was one of them and that they greeted him friendly. He smiled back, especially as they took their seats in the first rows, and then turned his attention back to his notes. Shuffling with some parchments, he tried to fight the nervousness and the queasy feeling in his stomach, as slowly more and more students filled the classroom until the last one was there and it was time for the class to start.

With a wave of his wand, Harry closed the door to the classroom and got up, taking a sheet of parchment, where the names of the students were listed. After having made sure that truly everyone was there, he put the parchment back and walked to the front of his desk, leaning against it, crossing his arms in a relaxed manner over his chest. If only he truly felt as relaxed as he wanted to appear!

"Good morning everyone," he greeted them, feeling as if someone was choking him. "As your Headmaster already told you last night, my name is Professor Potter and I'm going to teach Defence against the Dark Arts this year. Today, I want to start with some easy stuff and then move on to something new. So I ask you to put your wands and books away. You won't need them." Noticing the confused looks the students were giving him, as if asking him, if he was really serious that they neither needed wand nor book, he turned around and walked over to something covered by black cloth next to his desk. Harry realized that they had every reason to be confused, since it was rather unusual in this class to not use any of those items. He smirked, anticipating their reaction to his first class, and pulled the fabric off, revealing a rattling trunk. "Can someone tell me what's in there?" Several hands were raised and he picked a blond haired Ravenclaw. "Miss Hawkins, please."

"I think it's a boggart, Sir," the girl answered.

Harry smiled at her, slowly feeling that his nervousness started to lessen. "That's right. Could you also tell me, what a boggart is?"

Nodding, the girl explained, "A boggart usually prefers dark and closed places like trunks and closets. No one knows its real form, as it transforms as soon as it faces someone."

"Good. Five points to Ravenclaw. And now, does someone else know, what kind of form the boggart takes, when it transforms?" Again, Harry could see many hands in the air, but this time he picked someone from Gryffindor. "Mr. Weasley."

"It depends. A boggart usually becomes what people fear the most."

"Five points to Gryffindor. Has anyone ever seen what his boggart looks like?" Harry asked next and was surprised that most of the students shook their heads. "But you covered boggarts last year, didn't you?" This time, they all nodded. This puzzled him greatly – he had read the curriculum of each year for Defence against the Dark Arts and knew that the students should usually face their first boggart in third year. "Why didn't your last professor show you one?"

"I think he was scared," a timid looking pale Ravenclaw boy with brown hair answered almost in a whisper. However, as the class was incredibly quiet, Harry heard it.

"Why should he be scared of a boggart?"

Suddenly feeling the attention of the whole class on him, the boy seemed to try to melt into the shadows behind his desk. "M-maybe because h-he thought that- that o-our worst f-fear would be…" His voice dropped to an extremely low level, as he mumbled the next words. "You-know-who."

"Excuse me… Who?" Even though Harry had heard perfectly well what this boy had mumbled, he thought he had finally found the best way to breach the topic he had wanted to talk about during this class. He knew he was being somewhat cruel of putting him through this, but he had set himself a goal that he wanted to achieve, so he needed to push the students a bit.

"You-know-who," the boy repeated, louder this time. However, when the boy saw the confused look on his professor's face, he was starting to become irritated. "He-who-must-not-be-named, you know?"

Harry shook his head, trying to keep the grin from his face. "I'm sorry, but I have no idea, who you are talking about."

"But everyone knows You-know-who!" a girl from Gryffindor with long, chestnut brown hair who was sitting next to Bill exclaimed. "How can you not know him?"

"Does this _you-know-who_ have a name?" Harry asked, noticing with a self-satisfied inner smirk, how some of the students recoiled.

"A-a name?" another student, a Ravenclaw, stuttered.

"Yes, you have a name, your classmates all have names and I have one. So, why shouldn't he have one, as well?" Some students started to whisper excitedly to each other, but Harry didn't think that anyone of them would be brave enough to say what he wanted to hear, yet. Looking around the classroom, he also noticed some students that had shrunk back in their seats, as if trying to become one with the shadows to not be called upon by him, but then he saw him, the same shy and somewhat mousy Ravenclaw boy from before, slowly and hesitatingly raising his hand. "Yes… What was your name?"

"B-Benjamin," he answered. "B-Benjamin Linford, Sir."

"Benjamin, can you answer my question?"

All heads turned towards the boy, as he nodded ever so slightly. "I-I read in a b-book, b-before I came t-to H-Hogwarts, that h-he was o-once known a-as T-Tom R-Riddle."

Harry flashed him a genuine and encouraging smile. "You're Muggleborn, aren't you?" Once again, Benjamin only nodded. "I'm impressed. You've really done your homework. That's really brave, especially since Muggles are his main targets. Ten points to Ravenclaw for this." Turning back to the rest of his class, Harry continued, "Now, as you've probably guessed, I knew from the beginning, whom you were talking about. I just wanted you to speak his name, which Mr. Linford did, at least one of his names. Yes, Tom Marvolo Riddle is the man who later was known as the one you fear so much - Voldemort."

Every single student in this class winced, when he spoke the name, and some of them couldn't suppress a small shriek or dropped something. This was a reaction he had expected and wanted to lessen, if not get rid of completely, in his classes. In his own time, it was still a too common reaction, no matter how hard he or the others, who _dared_ to say the name, tried to convince that fearing this name was useless.

„_Voldemort_ (again, everyone flinched) was once a normal boy, who got his Hogwarts letter and then came to this school, just like you. But I assume you know that already. However, what you probably don't know, is that Voldemort isn't a pureblood as everyone presumes. No," Harry clarified, as most of his students looked at him in disbelief, "Tom Riddle's father was a Muggle and his mother a witch, making him a half blood. His father left his mother, when he found out that she was a witch and his mother died during childbirth, leaving her new born son in the care of a Muggle orphanage. Tom hated it there, hated his Muggle father and came to despise Muggles in general. I think he saw his magic as a chance to escape, to prove that he was better than any Muggle and to help him avenging everything the Muggles had ever done to him."

Avenging everything the Muggles had ever done to him… Harry knew this longing all too well, but he had always resisted the lure to use his magic against the Dursleys, knowing that it was not just _wrong_, but also knowing that probably the only thing the Dursleys deserved was pity for being a really poor excuse for Muggles. But deep in his heart Harry knew that he would have most likely become another Tom Riddle, had it not been for Ron and Hermione, who had helped him through everything ever since his first day at Hogwarts. _Voldemort would have had a field day, _Harry thought grimly. _The only one, who is able to defeat him, on his side, fighting for his cause…_

"As you see," he continued after a moment's hesitation, to let the information sink in, "Voldemort is just a wizard – a powerful one, I admit – but he's still just that. He had been wronged more than once in his childhood and this formed the man you're now afraid of. I'm not saying that you don't have to fear him, but by fearing his _name_ you only give him more power over you!"

"But he killed so many people, wizards, witches and Muggles alike," a black-haired girl in Gryffindor colours objected.

"That he did and he will kill more. Until he is stopped, more people will die," Harry told her bluntly, before he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Has anyone of you ever heard of a man called Hitler?"

"Wasn't he the Muggle who lived during Grindewald's reign of terror?" a female voice in the back asked.

"Yes, that was him, but do you also know that at the same time that Grindewald terrorized the Wizarding World, Hitler was at war with a large part of the Muggle world, where this war is known as World War II, and therewith responsible for hundred thousands of death of soldiers and innocents, much more than Voldemort had ever killed? Adolf Hitler's main goal wasn't so unlike Voldemort's. He was convinced that only one race, the Aryan race, was fit for survival, so he ordered the death of everyone not being Aryan, his main target having been Jews. He deported them to so called concentration camps, where the men and the women were told to work. The old and children, who had been deported, were killed in gas chambers, as well as everyone saying anything against Hitler's regime was ordered dead."

Harry was pleased to note that the class was paying close attention to him, some of them even taking down notes. He just wanted to open his mouth again, when Benjamin Linford's hand was again in the air. He nodded at him, encouraging him to say whatever he wanted to say.

"But why Jews?"

"Because he was afraid of them," Harry only answered. Upon the bemused looks he was getting, he gave them a sad smile. "When he had been a child, he had been afraid of them, because they were different. They mostly wore black clothes and the men more often than not had long beards, making them stand out. He hadn't understood them and this, in addition to their appearance, had scared him."

Sitting down on his desk, he looked thoughtful for a moment, before he added, "You see, impressions of other persons or races can form a person, help him become what he is now. This has happened with Hitler and this has happened with Voldemort. They are truly more alike than you think, with one major difference. I don't know who started it, I doubt anyone does, but contrary to the Muggles, who endured so much under Hitler's dictatorship, wizards and witches are afraid to use Voldemort's name. Even while Hitler was still alive, people feared him, but not his name. They didn't call him _You-know-who_ or _He-who-must-not-be-named_ and because of this, they have become stronger. They have learned from their past mistakes by facing their fears and hopefully something like World War II won't happen again."

The whole class was silent, not one dared to say anything or even to move. Harry jumped down from his desk, this time with a serious and determined look on his face, and, as his boots collided with the ground, most students looked at him startled.

"This is the topic of our first lessons," he told them with a strong and firm voice, "facing your fears and this one in particular. I swear, in one month all of you will be able to say the name _Voldemort_ without wincing or stuttering! As homework I want you to work in pairs, the best would be one pureblood and one, who is at least part Muggle, to find out as much as possible about Voldemort's and Hitler's life and reign and compare them. I want you to get some insight into their personalities, if possible, so that you can understand them better. Understanding something is the first step of getting rid of that fear. You have one week for this task and you won't get any other homework from me this week."

"Wait a second," Bill Weasley almost interrupted him. "You want us to lose our fear of Vol- You-know-who?"

Shaking his head, Harry smiled. "No, not of Voldemort. Fearing the person is alright, because he _has_ done terrible things, but I want you to lose your fear of his name."

"And what about the boggart?" Bill prodded further.

"You will face him, eventually, someday this month I assume," he informed them. "But before you go now, I would ask of you one last thing. Please repeat what I say. Voldemort."

No sound was to be heard, as all students looked at him, somewhat shocked. They obviously hadn't expected him to do this, yet.

"Come on!" he called, trying to ease them into this with a smile on his face. "It's just a name! He won't jump out of the shadows and attack you, when you say it. I've been saying it, ever since I first heard of him and as you see, I'm still alive. So, once again: Voldemort."

This time some quiet and some stammering reached his ear, whereas others remained silent, but some of them actually had, with huge effort, managed to say the name, at least partly.

"Not bad, but remember, by the end of the month I want all of you to be perfect at this. Class dismissed."

When the last student had left the classroom and the door was thrown shut, Harry slumped against his desk and heaved a deep breath. This had truly been a lot better than he had thought his first class would be. His nervousness had passed completely, once the class had started taking interest in what he had been talking about, and he now could hear his stomach protesting loudly. Unfortunately there was still one more class until lunch – first years Hufflepuff and (he cringed slightly) Slytherin.

* * *

When Harry finally stepped into the Great Hall for lunch, his stomach churning painfully to remind him of his hunger, the murmuring and talking at the tables intensified and many students started to stare at him in respect and some even in awe. It seemed as if the fourth year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws had quickly taken to spreading the news of their first lesson among the other students. 

Whispers were following him through the whole hall and once he reached the staff table, his friends also only stared at him, as well as some other teachers. Hiding his smirk at Hermione's fidgeting hands, as if dying to ask what was on her mind, he filled some vegetables and meat on his plate and started to eat, almost sighing in relief, as his stomach finally stopped protesting. Note to self: Never sleep in anymore!

Harry patiently finished his first portion, before he once again reached for the bowl to refill his plate, the whole time completely ignoring his friend. Hermione herself, having obviously noticed that Harry wasn't going to react just yet, had also returned part of her attention back to her plate, but kept glancing at him every so often, as if checking, if he was finally finished. Only Draco and Ron were fully dedicated to their lunch, trusting Hermione to start the conversation that would confirm or disprove the rumour they had heard.

So, at the same moment that Harry leaned back in his chair, after having finished his second plate, the question just blurted out of her. "Is it true?"

"Is what true?" Harry asked, only teasing her slightly, with a grin on his face, as he noticed that he now also had the rapt attention of every other teacher at the staff table. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at him mischievously and Harry was kind of relieved that the Headmaster apparently didn't hold a grudge against him for his topic in his first lesson.

"Harry Potter!" Hermione hissed, not wanting to cause a scene in front of the students, but still much too curious about the rumour. "Don't play dumb! You know exactly what I'm talking about! Is it true that you are _training _the students to say _Voldemort_?"

Some of the present teachers recoiled upon hearing this name and Harry smirked. "Yes, I am. Kind of. I only want them to overcome this fear, so I'm not exactly _training_ them. I think this should have happened a long time ago, seeing as even adults, who should know better, are afraid of a _name_."

"But…"

"No buts, Hermione," Harry lowered his voice, so that only she could hear him whisper, "In our time the whole Wizarding World panics as soon as the name is mentioned somewhere and this gives Voldemort power. I want to change that, if only by teaching my students that a name isn't something to fear."

"Alright Harry…" The young woman sighed. "I understand you, but I ask you not to push the students too hard… Almost their whole life they have been taught to fear it, so teaching them otherwise might prove to become difficult."

Harry grinned at her, as he finally reached for the dessert. "I managed it with you and Ron, didn't I?"


	16. Roses from No One

**A/N: I'm sorry for the long wait. Real life really gets in the way, but I believe you know how this is, so I won't make any more excuses. I just wanted to thank you for your reviews and I truly hope that you won't abandon this story, only because the updates aren't that quick. I can just say that I won't give up writing this, whatever I start, I will bring to an end and this fanfiction won't be an exception. I promise.**

**Right now, I want you to have fun reading this chapter! And, as always, reviews are highly appreciated.**

* * *

**Chapter 16: Roses from No One**

"Class dismissed," Harry said, trying to keep the obvious relief out of his voice, as the students got up and filed out of the classroom. When everybody was gone, he walked back behind his desk to gather the different scrolls of notes he had prepared for this class. Fortunately this had been the last class for today and tomorrow was Friday, so the weekend was drawing near. He had never believed, when he had agreed to this whole thing that teaching would be that strenuous and time consuming. Right now, after almost three weeks of doing this job, he finally started to respect and appreciate the hard work his professors always had put into their education. Especially when dealing with classes put together with students from Gryffindor and Slytherin, just like the sixth years class he had just taught.

It was a few minutes later that he finally left the classroom and was on his way back to their common room. He didn't even want to think about the assignments he still needed to grade, but with this he would start after dinner. For now he just wanted to relax a bit and then have a nice and plentiful meal.

Neither Ron nor Hermione or Draco were in the common room, when he arrived there. Ron was probably still outside, making sure that none of the school brooms were broken, Hermione was most-likely still talking to some of her students before coming here and Draco, well, he only actually saw Draco during the meals or in the mornings. The rest of the time Harry assumed that his once rival was spending either in the potions lab or in his office.

Well, at least no one would bother him for at least a couple of more minutes. He went into his room and closed the door behind him, before he dropped the pieces of parchment on his desk, next to another pile. He really needed to get a lot of work done that night and probably also over the weekend. No matter how much fun teaching actually was, sharing your knowledge with younger generations, as Hermione had so accurately put it, clearly had its disadvantages, like spending hours after classes to correct and grade homework.

However, Harry didn't want to complain. Dumbledore had been so generous to offer them those jobs, even though he absolutely didn't need to, and they could thank him by doing this job as well as possible. And, Harry thought, he was helping those students. Especially his fourth years Gryffindor and Ravenclaw class was making him proud. He had received many interesting essays about Voldemort and Hitler and they were already doing a lot better saying his name. He truly figured that, within the next two weeks, he might be able to show them the boggart.

"Harry, mate, you already there?" sounded Ron's voice from the common room.

Instead of answering, Harry sighed – his few minutes of peace were over – and left his room, seeing Ron standing in the middle of the room. "Hi Ron," he replied tiredly and slumped down in one of the armchairs. "How was your day?"

Shrugging, Ron replied, "The usual. Only that today, after dinner, I'm going to have to supervise the Quidditch training of the Gryffindors. Actually, I can't wait to see how Charlie is as a seeker. Who knows," he said winking with a large grin on his face, "maybe he can give you a run for your money. You want to come and watch?"

"Sorry, but I can't." Harry rubbed his eyes. He really wanted to, but there were still the two piles of parchment waiting for him in his room. Somehow Ron had gotten the easy teaching spot. Flying lessons were only for first years and the essays they had to write – if they even had to write any – were quite easy to grade. But then again, instead of grading papers, Ron had to be present at the Quidditch training of the different houses now and then and Harry remembered only all to well how long they could take, when you had a Quidditch obsessed team captain. However, Harry would much rather watch over some kids playing Quidditch than read the essays until the letters became blurry. "I guess, you want to have dinner now?"

"Exactly," the redhead nodded. "Oh, and I met Hermione on my way here. She told me she needed to go to the library and would grab a bite later and that we shouldn't wait up for her."

Harry shook his head. This was just like their friend to skip dinner – he didn't believe one second that Hermione would _bother_ the House Elves late at night only because she was hungry. "Well, that's Hermione for you." Stretching his arms into the air and his neck first to one and then to the other side to get rid of some tense muscles, Harry got up from the armchair. "Let's have dinner then."

* * *

It was already early in the morning – Harry's watch showed 3:17 – as he finally put the quill down and added the last essay to the already finished pile of graded papers. _Finally_, Harry thought with an exhausted grin on his face. He pushed the chair back and got up, only hesitating as he took a quick look out of the window. The whole sky was littered with glistening stars and the Forbidden Forest loomed darkly behind Hagrid's hut. The half-giant seemed to have also turned in already, as there was no light in the hut. _Already_, he chuckled. _That's good._ In only a couple of hours his alarm clock would wake him mercilessly and he would need to get up to face another exhausting day at school. _And there's only one pile left, _Harry grinned wryly, as he gazed at the other pile of parchments that was still waiting for him.

Sleepily, Harry rubbed his eyes, as he crossed the room and stepped into the bathroom to get ready for bed. Once he was dressed in only his shorts and a black T-shirt, he came back out and, with a wave of his hand, extinguished the candles. He knew the few steps from the bathroom to his bed by heart, so he only slumped down on the mattress and, after having pulled the blanket up, closed his eyes. But somehow, before he succumbed to sleep, a fleeting thought crossed his mind that he had forgotten something.

His night was restless, as he tossed and turned. His dreams were evaded by the last thought he had before falling asleep...

_He was chasing a red question mark that was teasing him about something with Snape's voice. Only, whenever a certain word fell, it was droned out by a loud noise that resembled a helicopter. When he had followed the question mark to the Quidditch pit, it was suddenly wearing green and silver robes and sneered at him, now sounding a lot like Malfoy. "Come and get it, Potter."_

_Harry looked down at himself and noticed that he was wearing his old Gryffindor Quidditch gear and was holding his trusty Firebolt in his right hand. Without thinking, Harry mounted the broom and rose into the air, still following the question mark. But now that he was back in the air, he felt better, securer and he knew that it would now only be a matter of time until he remembered. He saw it then, the golden snitch, and dove after it until his fist closed around the fluttering ball. Slowly opening his fist again, he expected it to fly away again, but instead it jumped to the ground and transformed into…_

"Hermione!" he gasped, as he sat up in his bed. It was only a few minutes before his alarm clock would have woken him up, but the sudden memory about what day it was today made him jump faster out of the bed than probably ever before. "Oh bloody hell!" Cringing, he looked at the calendar and indeed, he had been right. There was a bright red ring around the number nineteen, which itself was flashing at him in rainbow colours. Today was Hermione's birthday and he had completely forgotten about it – why hadn't Ron reminded him? Out of all people, he _should_ know when it was Hermione's birthday. _Present, present…_ Harry looked frantically around his room, searching for anything that might be a good present for Hermione, but there was nothing he could use.

He just wanted to storm into the common room to find Ron, when he remembered what he was wearing and, cursing again, he grabbed his clothes and disappeared in the bathroom. _Why the bleeding hell are mornings at Hogwarts always this hectic?_

His hair was still damp, as he stepped into the common room and found Ron already sitting there, reading the _Daily Prophet_ and obviously waiting for him to go to breakfast. How Ron always managed to be ready before him was still a mystery, but he didn't have time to solve it now. "Why didn't you remind me?" he immediately asked, when he spotted his friend.

"Remind you? What are you talking about?" Ron looked a bit startled, but also a bit confused. "And why is everyone so grumpy this morning?"

Harry groaned, as he walked up to his friend. "Please, don't tell me that you also forgot." When the confusion on Ron's face became even more evident, he continued, "'Mione's birthday."

"Oh…" the redhead said slowly, but when the words had sunken in, he repeated, louder this time, "Oh! Bloody hell!"

"My words exactly," Harry agreed and sat down next to his friend.

"So, that's the reason why she just stomped out a couple of minutes ago, when I only said good morning and then opened the Prophet."

The black-haired young man wiped a hand over his face. "We're hopeless." Ron could only agree.

* * *

It was with great fear and guilt that the two young men stepped into the Great Hall and up to the staff table, where a couple of teachers were already having breakfast, Hermione included. However, the young woman didn't once look up from her copy of the _Prophet_, as they sat down next to her. Neither Ron nor Harry knew what to say to her, so they rather remained silent, both thinking of a way to apologize and make up for their forgetfulness. _Maybe a surprise party_, Harry thought, because then they could tell her that they had just pretended to have forgotten her birthday. But knowing Hermione as well as they did, he didn't believe one second that she was going to buy this story. Sighing, he put his fork down on his plate and turned to his friend. "Hermione, look…"

"Not now," she hissed, still not looking up from the newspaper. But when it seemed to her that Harry wouldn't give up, she sighed and just said, "Listen, I'm mad right now. I know a lot has happened in the past few weeks, but still… Just, leave me alone for a while, okay?"

Harry just wanted to open his mouth again to contradict, to say that he was truly sorry and that it would never happen again, when suddenly a swarm of owls descended into the Great Hall. At once it became rather loud, as wrappings and letters were opened by the students, just as every morning, but this morning something else happened as well, something that had never happened before since they had arrived in this time. One of the owls dropped down directly in front of Hermione, causing her to look up from the _Prophet_ and her eyes widened in surprise, when she spotted what exactly was tied at the owl's leg. Still slightly taken aback, Hermione untied the single pink rose from the owl's leg and didn't even notice it flying away, as she immediately turned to Harry and Ron, who were both looking at her curiously.

"Thank you, guys," she said, sighing again. "I know you want to make it up to me, but it's not just you, okay? It's just…"

"But we didn't send you this," Ron blabbered out before he could stop himself. Harry winced, as he heard the words and immediately saw Hermione's face close up again. Her mouth formed a small 'oh' before she forced her attention away from them to the rose on the desk in front of her, her face betraying the pain they had caused her, but also a certain curiosity, as she was looking at the rose.

"What's this?" a well-known voice suddenly drawled, as Draco slumped down in the chair next to Ron. "Did one of you actually remember Granger's birthday and give her this rose? Or is this just a lame way to apologize for forgetting."

Ron just wanted to tell Draco off, as the blond haired man pulled a longish box, wrapped in green paper, out of his pocket and handed it over to Hermione without saying a word. The young witch muttered a quiet 'Thank you' and smiled at Draco, as she unwrapped the gift and opened the box. Inside was a beautiful light brown quill.

"Excellent quality," Draco explained. "I got one of these for myself and I'm mostly satisfied with it. It's not for grading papers, mind you, but maybe you could use it to write letters or something like this."

The smile on Hermione's face widened, as she examined the quill from all possible angles, but couldn't detect a single flaw. The wood was smooth and she was quite sure that it would take a long time until it would splinter or soak up the ink. "Thank you, again, Draco. This is beautiful." While saying this, Hermione shot her best friends an angry look. "I better head to class now. There're still some things I need to prepare." She put the quill back into the box and carefully folded the wrapping paper, before she got up from the chair, gently picked up the pink rose and walked past Harry and Ron, once again glaring at them, and Draco, whom she gave a bright smile.

Harry groaned almost inaudible, when Hermione had walked trough the doors out of the Great Hall, and almost let his head fall on the table – only that this wasn't a very mature thing to do and he had to keep in mind that he was a professor now and therefore a role model for the students. How could this day just start out so wrong? Admitted, he and Ron had messed up, but they were planning to make it up to her! It had been a hectic few weeks and surely she must understand that things like birthdays could slip their minds. Maybe she would have understood it, if Draco hadn't turned up and not only remembered her birthday, but had also been as thoughtful as to buy her a great gift. He turned to look at the man, who had once been his arch-nemesis, and, noticing that Ron was scowling at the same man the whole time, while gruesomely chopping his sausages, sighed. Right now Harry just wished to be in his room with his essays to wait out the day until everything was back to normal.

* * *

As the day passed by, Harry began to hear the most curious things. He had heard some students – rather excited third years Hufflepuff girls – whisper about their last Transfiguration class. He didn't want to eavesdrop, but when the words _Professor Granger_ and _yellow roses_ reached his ears, he couldn't help but slow his steps along the corridor, hoping to catch more of their conversation. Apparently another owl had flown through the open window of the classroom and delivered, not just one, but two yellow roses.

Now his own curiosity started to grow. Who was this stranger who was sending her those roses? He was sure that it was neither him nor Ron, obviously, and he believed he knew Draco well enough to know that it wasn't him. But who else? A student most likely, or maybe a fellow professor? Ron had been pointing out a lot that Hermione seemed to have befriended this Christophe Hayden and was spending (way too) much time with him. Maybe it was him?

Harry shook his head. This was just guessing and speculation. Maybe the mysterious stranger would show himself soon.

It was at lunch that Ron told him about what he had heard some first years Gryffindors gossip in front of the Great Hall. "They said that during their class an owl delivered three red roses to Hermione. Can you believe this? _Three red roses!_" And so Harry referred to what those girls had said about Hermione having received two yellow roses during her first class of that day. "Hermione's still got one more class today and I honestly don't want to know what her students will be talking about then."

Harry could only agree with his friend. Somehow, he had a strange feeling. Not bad strange, just strange. Whoever was sending those roses to Hermione certainly knew how to do it. First the pink rose, for a happy birthday, then the yellow ones, for friendship and then the red ones, for love. The only other colour of what he knew the meaning was white, for pure love. He idly wondered, if the sender would really dare this next step or if he would just stop with the red roses.

Suddenly feeling rather anxious, Harry left his lunch almost untouched and pushed his chair back. He gave Ron an apologetic smile, before heading out of the Great Hall and outside. Fortunately there weren't many students outside, so he only needed to walk a bit until he was alone. Harry pulled out the packet of cigarettes out of his pocket, opened it and, after having put one cigarette into his mouth, lit it with his wand. Relief immediately flooded through him, as some of the tension began to leave. Since Harry had started his _career_ as professor, he made it a point to not be near any students, when he went to satisfy his cravings, as not to give them any ideas. And until now, he had been successful. The others never liked it, rather Hermione and Ron usually complained when he wanted to smoke in their common room, so he tried to avoid this, too, but fortunately he knew some spells to clean the air inside a room, so it didn't bother him to smoke in his bedroom.

Halfway through his third cigarette, Harry felt a light warming on his left arm. He had put a spell on his watch to alert him, when it was time for him to go to his classroom and this was the signal that he only had a couple of minutes to spare until the first students arrived. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and muttered a quiet, "Scourgify" so that the last one and the other ones disappeared, before he went back inside. One more class and then no more teaching until Monday.

* * *

This time, Ron was waiting for him in their common room after their last class. Harry would have just loved to let himself drop on the couch and praise the weekend, but there were still two matters on his mind. The remaining essays and Hermione. Of course, at the moment, Hermione was the more important matter – he and Ron still needed to make it up to her that they had been this inconsiderate. But somehow, he doubted that they could do anything to surpass the roses she had been receiving all day long. They hadn't heard anything yet about her last class, but this would change as soon as the woman in question stepped through the portrait hole.

They talked a bit, throwing ideas back and forth for a good present, though nothing good seemed to come out of it – Harry just felt so unimaginative. About half an hour had already passed since Harry had stepped into the common room, so, when the portrait swung open again, both jumped startled, but it was only Draco.

"Don't let me bother you," he told them smirking, as he walked across the room and sat down in the armchair he had claimed at the very beginning of their stay at Hogwarts. Throwing his legs over one armrest, he peeled himself out of the black robe he was usually wearing for teaching, revealing the black T-shirt and blue jeans he was wearing underneath. Harry wondered again from time to time, when he saw Draco like this, how someone, who seemed to despise Muggles that much, kept to wearing their style of clothes.

Harry and Ron threw each other a quick glance, as Draco picked up a book that he had left there last night and opened it somewhere in the middle to continue his reading. It was impossible now to further discuss Hermione's birthday. However, they wouldn't have had any time anyway, because only a few seconds later the portrait swung open again and Hermione stepped inside, carrying next to her bag a bunch of roses – one pink, two yellow, three red and four coral roses. This surprised Harry. He had almost been convinced that it would be white roses. But most of all he asked himself, what the colour coral meant, if it even had a meaning.

"Phew, this has been one hell of a day," she muttered, as she put the roses on the table and set her bag on the floor. Hermione wiped her forehead with the back of her hand before also shedding her outer robe and sitting down in the last armchair. She made a flourish movement with her wand and a vase appeared on the table, already filled with water. She put the roses inside of the vase and, after having given them one last look, turned to Harry and Ron, who were watching her warily. "They really aren't from you, are they?" When both of them shook their heads, Hermione sighed. "That's weird. I really wished I knew who to thank for these. They're truly beautiful. It's been a long time since someone gave me roses." She sniffed at them and then sighed again. "I also really would like to know, what the coral ones mean. I know the meaning of the other ones, but these are new to me…"

"Desire," Draco answered, as he looked up from his book and rested his gaze on Hermione. "Coral roses mean desire." When he noticed the bemused looks on Ron's and Harry's face, he put the book back on the table and got up from the armchair. "Don't stare at me like this. We had a lot of flowers in the gardens back at Malfoy Manor, so it's almost inevitable that you learn a lot about them and their meanings. Now, if you'd excuse me, I still have to finish some work."

"We're sorry, 'Mione," Ron said this time, when Draco had disappeared in his room.

"I know," she answered. "And I'm sorry that I acted this way this morning. It isn't your fault. We've all been preoccupied and as I already said, it wasn't just you. I- I just realised this morning that I can't talk to my parents and that they're probably worried about me. If their even still alive… It's been more than one and a half months since the battle at the Burrow and I'm scared to find out what has happened to everyone after we were brought here."

Harry noticed the tears in her eyes and immediately went up to her, engulfing her in a gentle hug. He could vaguely imagine how she felt like – the Weasleys, Remus and of course Hermione and Ron were his family in the other timeline and he would most likely feel the same, were he stuck in this time alone; but at the same time he also felt bad, because in this time, he had his parents and didn't need to worry about them in their time. "Don't cry, 'Mione. Dumbledore will find a way to bring us back, to the exact moment we left, so there's no need to worry."

"Oh Harry," she cried. "I'm so sorry. I really shouldn't have been this angry with you about a small thing like my birthday."

"Who said that your birthday is a small thing?" Ron asked. He also got up from his armchair and completed the group hug. "We will make it up for you, I promise. We will ask the House Elves to prepare a huge cake with chocolate cream for you, with twenty-two candles and lots of calories…"

A small chuckle was to be heard from where Hermione had buried her face in her friends' robes and both young men grinned, when she muttered, "Don't you dare do this, Ron Weasley. The House Elves have more than enough work to do without you asking them to bake a cake."


	17. A Boggart, Quidditch and an Announcement

**A/N: Okay, sorry again that it took a bit longer… Exams have gotten in the way, but now I finally have time to write. I mean, I managed four chapters within two weeks for different stories, sounds promising, don't you think. I hope you like this one as much as you liked the last one(s)! Reviews are appreciated as always. **

**Another quick information: I just found out a few days ago that Charlie and Bill aren't even supposed to be at Hogwarts when this story is set, but I hadn't found this info earlier, when I started this fanfic, actually I guessed given by the dates that the same site had displayed then (which had been different), the dates of their Hogwarts career.**** Well, it can't be changed anymore in this fic… for those who are interested in the site where I found the info (it's actually great), here's the address (I believe many of you know this website already): www. hp-lexicon. org**

**And now****, have fun with this chapter!**

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**Chapter 17: A Boggart, Quidditch and an Announcement**

Quidditch was in the air.

Harry was very certain of the fact and this not only because he knew that tomorrow, on Saturday, the first match, as seemed to be usual, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, was going to take place. In the halls everywhere and also in his last class on Friday, the students were chatting almost non-stop about the coming match. They didn't even seem to register when he had stepped into the classroom and they hadn't stopped until he had dropped his bag on his desk with a nice loud _bang._ Immediately every head turned to him and he smirked. If the spirits were already so high because of a Quidditch match, he didn't even want to think about how the students would act after the announcement that Dumbledore would make at dinner tomorrow.

"Now that I finally got your attention, I can start my class," he told his fourth year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. "Because today I've got a special treat for you. I noticed that you all did very well in my previous classes and I don't think that anyone of you will flinch anymore, when I say the name _Voldemort_"

And he was right, there was no reaction coming from any student. It had taken some time, now about six weeks actually, but he had finally achieved his goal with them. He had helped them understand that they didn't need to fear _a name._ His other fourth year class, the Hufflepuff-Slytherin combination, hadn't come that far, yet. Mainly because the Slytherins straight out refused to speak the name.

But now came the big test. "Does anyone of you have an idea of what my treat could be? Mr. Weasley," he said, as Bill Weasley raised his hand, along with several other students.

The red-haired boy's eyes wandered to the trunk next to the professor's desk, as he replied, "The Boggart."

"Exactly. Today you're going to face the Boggart and fight it. I just don't hope that it will turn into a stray Bludger, because I don't think that we're prepared to face one of them today, or does anyone of you have by chance a bat at hand that we could use?"

A couple of students laughed at his joke and one boy in Ravenclaw colours asked loudly, with a bright grin on his face, "Mine is in the common room. Should I get it? I mean, better be safe than sorry." More laughter and even Harry chuckled lightly, as he walked over to the trunk.

"No, thank you, Mr. Sears. But thanks for the offer. Now," he said, stopping next to the trunk and facing the class. "Please come all here and get into a line. I believe you all know the spell to fight a Boggart? Can someone name it? Yes, Mr. Linford?"

"Riddikulus."

"Correct. Who would like to start? What about you, Mr. Sears, maybe you might need your bat after all?" The Beater from Ravenclaw, a rather lean boy with longer shaggy blond hair, bravely stepped forward at the beginning of the line. "Alright, you know what to do. Think about what you fear the most and then of something that might ridicule your worst fear. You know the spell. Wand at the ready."

The boy shakily held his wand in his left hand and his mouth was set in a grim line, as he thought about his worst fear. For a moment Harry contemplated about using Legilimency to see this boy's fear to be prepared, but then decided against it. He might be distracted by someone probing his mind and that was the last thing that Harry wanted. A quick nod from the boy told him that he was ready and Harry unclasped the latches and opened the lid.

Harry halfway expected it to be in fact Voldemort, since this had been their previous teacher's reason to not show them a Boggart, but he was surprised to see that it was a dragon, a Norwegian Ridgeback if Harry wasn't completely wrong. Fact was that it reached the ceiling of the classroom even without raising its head. Dark smoke came out of its nostrils as the dragon snorted and looked over the teenagers, who were now slowly inching backwards. Harry wondered, if he should step in, as the Ridgeback reared his head back, obviously planning to attack any second.

"Riddikulus!" the boy shouted and at the same moment as the dragon wanted to spit fire, it started to choke and instead of flames, the class was showered with pleasantly cool water. In addition to that, the whole dragon began to shrink until it wasn't bigger as a dachshund and its roars had turned into an adorable squeak.

Harry grinned. "Alright, the next one!"

The students certainly had fun during this class, as each and every one of them faced the Boggart and it didn't turn into Voldemort a single time. The worst fears of the students were mostly the most mundane things like spiders, snakes, trolls, banshees, vampires and one dark haired boy from Gryffindor was even afraid of clowns. In the end, after the last student had banished his Boggart, Harry wrestled it back into the trunk and closed the lid, before turning to his students. He was surprised, when a girl from Gryffindor raised her hand.

He called her name and she asked, "What does your Boggart turn into, Sir?"

Instead of answering her question, Harry looked thoughtfully at the rattling trunk and then at his watch. There were still ten minutes left, so it should be possible to show them. But were they ready to face something as terrible as the form his Boggart would take? Had he been ready their age? Yes, he had been more than ready, and the kids deserved to know about this creature as well. It might help them, should they ever get into the dire situation to face one of them.

"I'll show you. Please step back." He placed himself between the students and the trunk and faced it. With a wave of his wand, the lid sprung open and a dark creature rose out of the trunk. He heard several students gasp, as the Dementor took a rattled breath and he himself felt its effect as his stomach churned and he started to feel incredibly cold. A girl behind him whimpered and the shuffling of feet reached his ears. Harry, however, stood his ground, as the creature approached him and soon he could hear the voices in his head. _Not Harry! Please, not Harry!_ Shaking his head and deciding that this was long enough, he pointed his wand at the Dementor, recalled the happy memory of meeting his parents for the first time and yelled, "Expecto Patronum!" The Dementor-Boggart stumbled back into the trunk, as Prongs bared his antlers and shoved them into the creature's chest. The lid snapped shut and the class breathed a sigh of relief. Harry felt a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead, as he watched as Prongs disappeared, and turned around to face a couple of ghostly pale students. "This was what my Boggart turns into. What was this creature?"

"A-a Dementor?" a shaking Ravenclaw girl mumbled.

"That's right," Harry said, nodding. "Please read up on Dementors until next class. We'll talk about this dark creature then and also about the charm I used to repel it. You can go now. I'll inform the house-elves to supply your common rooms with large quantities of chocolate. It will make you feel better again, I promise. So eat it, lots of it, because I don't want any of you to miss the match tomorrow!"

* * *

Saturday, October 18, 1980, came with simply brilliant weather. There was no cloud to be seen at the ceiling of the Great Hall and the sun was shining down at them warmly. It promised to become a great day for Quidditch, as there was no wind at all and the only thing that might even remotely bother the players was the bright sun. At breakfast the Great Hall was already packed with students bearing either the colours of Gryffindor or of Slytherin. The Gryffindor house table went up in a cheer, as their team stepped into the Hall, already packed with their brooms.

Harry sighed, relishing in happy memories, as he watched this. Those were the days, when he had been welcomed with the team like this… Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed Ron giving Charlie the thumbs-up, as the younger Weasley looked at the staff table. "You're supposed to be unbiased," he mumbled to his friend and nudged him in the rips with a sharp elbow. "Don't forget. You're the referee in this match."

"No need to hurt me, mate," Ron complained, rubbing his rips, but grinned. "You'd rather tell _them_ this…"

Harry looked up to the large wooden double doors and saw Hermione and Draco enter, both decked out in the colours of their houses and obviously engaged in a rather heated discussion, which first stopped, as they joined Ron and Harry at the staff table.

"Good morning," Hermione greeted them brightly, helping herself to some scrambled eggs. "Isn't this a beautiful day? Perfect to squash Slytherin."

Ron snorted into his goblet of pumpkin juice and turned his head to look at Hermione, who was now calmly eating her breakfast. Harry also looked at her a bit surprised. Though Hermione had always supported him and Ron during their matches, she had never shown her interest in defeating a team like this. She almost seemed _passionate_ about the upcoming match.

"Dream on, Granger," Draco said haughtily, as he filled some coffee into his cup. "Gryffindor will never win this match."

"What do you want to bet that Slytherin wins this match?" Hermione asked him, smiling daringly. "Before you answer, I just want to remind you that we have Charlie Weasley as Seeker and I heard that he's superb."

"What about ten galleons for the outcome of this match and fifty for the Quidditch Cup?" the Head of Slytherin suggested slyly and already extended his hand, reaching over the table.

Hermione seemed to think for a moment, but then a smirk crossed her face. She took his hand, meeting him halfway directly in front of Ron and Harry and said, "I accept. Ten galleons for this match and fifty for the cup."

"You're bonkers," Ron hissed at her and since Harry was sitting between them, he couldn't help but overhear. "That's a total of sixty galleons!"

But Hermione only dismissed him with a quick wave of her hand. "I wouldn't worry about that."

A small grin tugged at Harry's lips, as he noticed the certainty with which Hermione was acting. "What do you know that we don't?"

Before she could answer, the team members of Gryffindor suddenly got up again and left the Great Hall, obviously heading to the changing rooms at the pitch. Harry, forgetting his question, looked at his watch and saw that the match would start in half an hour.

Slowly, one by one, other students also left the hall and the Slytherin team followed about five minutes later. When Draco was at last also finally finished with his breakfast, the four of them walked between the students to the top box for the teachers halfway between the fifty feet high goal posts. Ron parted ways with them before they got up. From the top box they could see him bringing out the large wooden crate with the four different balls – one Quaffle, two Bludgers and the tiny Golden Snitch – and carrying his broom under his arm.

The top box filled out quickly with the other staff members and even Hagrid managed to squeeze in between them. There were only ten minutes left until the match started and a look around told Harry that most of the students were already in place. Dumbledore smiled at them and sat down behind them, but then suddenly Harry jerked around, as he heard familiar voices.

"I see you noticed my special guests, today," the Headmaster said winking, as James and Lily Potter and Arthur and Molly Weasley stepped into the box, sitting down next to Dumbledore. Arthur and James gave each of the young men – even Draco – a tight handshake and the women only smiled at them.

"Not that I'm not glad that you're here," Harry said, still surprised, seeing as his parents hadn't told him that they would come. "But what are you doing here?"

"We're here to watch the match, of course," James answered, as if it were the most obvious reason in the world. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin – it's a classic."

"Don't listen to him," Lily said grinning. "Quidditch was only one reason. We also wanted to see how you're doing, with teaching and all that. I must say, we heard the most interesting rumours, but maybe you could tell us about them later?"

"Where's Ron?" Molly Weasley suddenly asked, as she had looked around the box and not seen him there.

"He's down there," Hermione informed her, motioning at the pitch. "He's refereeing the match."

"Ah, there he is," Arthur exclaimed delighted and at the same moment, Ron looked up and smiled brightly, when he spotted his parents in the box.

"'scuse me," they suddenly heard, as a black teenage girl with dark dreadlocks fought her way to the front, where the magical megaphone was lying.

"Ah, Miss Jordan," Dumbledore greeted her amiably. "Are you ready to commentate the match?"

"Aye, Sir," the girl replied grinning and suddenly Harry knew why she had always seemed so familiar, when he had seen her in his fifth year DADA classes. A low chuckle escaped his lips, as he thought of the irony of this. This Emily Jordan must be somehow related to Lee Jordan, an aunt or something like that. He was curious if she was as _impartial_ as Lee while commentating.

The clock strung eleven and at the same moment, the Slytherin team stepped onto the pitch. Emily Jordan raised the megaphone to her lips and began. "For Slytherin we have as usual the rather sturdy players Adlam, Byington, Truax, their captain Hazard, Denton and Lawley. The only exception of this team is second year Seeker Lisa Scarborough who just joined the team this year."

Harry grinned again, when he saw the members of the Slytherin team. _Rather sturdy_ was the understatement of the century. All six male players were extremely tall, fifth year and older, and bulky and seemed to be thinking more with their muscles as with their brains, except for their Seeker, who was truly tiny, even for a second year student. Well, at least some things never changed.

"Aand for Gryffindor we have the team captain and Beater Baker, her fellow Beater McHarg, the Chasers Osborn, Emerson and Clowes, Keeper Ackers aaaaaand Seeker Weasleeey!" Cheers went through must of the stands, as the Gryffindor team stepped into the light. "Now Hazard and Baker shake hands! Hey, don't crush her fingers you prick! Sorry professors," she added quickly, giving the teachers behind her a quick smile and Harry's grin widened. The comments already promised to become interesting. "Professor Weasley opens the crate and it's started!"

The two Bludgers immediately went into the air, as well as the Golden Snitch, which fluttered for a moment in front of Harry's face, who had to resist the urge in his fingers to grab it, and then disappeared.

"Osborn in possession of the Quaffle and he directly goes for the Slytherin goals!"

Harry recognized Osborn immediately. The rather short and scrawny boy with auburn hair was in his fourth year DADA class – his Boggart was a frog (He had only shrugged and said, "I could never stand them."). The team captain Baker was a petite black haired sixth year, but she appeared to be extremely strong, as she had just sent a Bludger from on end to the pitch to the other end. The other Beater, McHarg was the pure epitome of what a Beater should look like – sturdy and tall, like a wall, with short brown hair. Emerson was a girl in her third year at Hogwarts. She was a rather tall brunette girl for her age. The last Chaser, Clowes, was in his fifth year at Hogwarts and his built was rather normal for a boy his age, taller and lean. Much to his surprise, the Keeper of the team was, unlike he had known it until now, a girl. Ackers was in her seventh and therewith last year at Hogwarts, tall and thin. He truly wondered how she managed to protect that goal posts, but she did, almost effortlessly.

But his eyes were mostly on the Seeker, Charlie Weasley, third year, stocky built, but he was steadily circling the pitch, searching like a hawk for the Golden Snitch. The tiny Slytherin Seeker tailed him, but Harry had learned a long time ago that you had to look for the Snitch yourself, or else you'll most likely lose.

"Foul!" Emily Jordan yelled and Harry's head whirled around to Emerson, who was holding her bleeding nose. "Hey! Byington! Do you need glasses? A head is not a Bludger!" Harry wondered why no one in the box saw the need to reprimand her – though Hermione was eyeing the girl with a deep frown on her face, obviously ready to grab the megaphone and throw it away. "Penalty to Gryffindor! Emerson wants to perform it herself and… yes! Ten points to Gryffindor! It's now thirty to zero!"

"And the match continues! Truax got the Quaffle, passes to Denton, who passes to Hazard and… damn, Ackers could have never gotten this. Thirty – ten!"

Harry watched the match, fascinated. His whole body was itching to climb on a broom and join them. According to the anxious look on Ron's face, as he had passed them one time to dodge a stray Bludger, and the way Draco was cursing under his breath, every time the Slytherin Seeker did something stupid, they were thinking along the same lines. Out of habit, his eyes were roaming the pitch for the Snitch, but it hadn't shown itself yet.

Time passed and the students were completely rapt by the suspense of the match. Gryffindor was still leading – ninety to fifty and still no Snitch in sight. Another penalty went to Gryffindor, as Truax and Denton were holding Ackers, so that Hazard could score freely.

Hundred to sixty.

"Slytherin team captain Hazard calls for a time out! Gryffindor also uses the chance to once again go over the strategy. Baker talks to Weasley, but he only shakes his head. I believe none of us has seen the Snitch, yet."

The sound of a whistle went through the air and the teams rose again into the sky.

There were a couple of near misses with the Bludgers, as the match continued, as Slytherin seemed to have decided to use a more offensive tactic than before. Baker and McHarg had a lot to do to keep the Bludgers away from their own team members and this seemed to have become the highest priority, especially as Slytherin's Beaters had now made it their responsibility to viciously attack Charlie Weasley to knock him off his broom.

Harry heard some gasps from behind him, as Molly Weasley again had to watch such a near miss that could have hurt her son. He looked at his watch. Time had flown. It was already three o'clock in the afternoon and still no Golden Snitch. The score was one hundred and seventy to eighty for the golden-red team.

"Come on," Harry mumbled under his breath, now sitting on the edge of his seat because of the suspense. A quick glance to his left told him that Draco was also looking a bit dishevelled, especially since his team was ninety points behind. Only the Golden Snitch could help them now. Harry looked to his right and saw that Hermione had obviously given up on Emily Jordan, as she was now sitting back quite relaxed, while everyone's nerves were ready to burst. She also looked at her watch and then straightened, with a small victorious smile on her face.

Harry turned back to the pitch and then he saw it, the Golden Snitch, directly next to Charlie Weasley. He held his breath, inwardly hoping that the boy would see it and indeed, his head suddenly jerked around, when he had obviously spotted the small fluttering wings and his hand shot out.

A loud cheer went through the crowd and Slytherin students booed, as Charlie rose higher, yelling that he had it. His fist was in the air and the other members of the team were rushing at him and tackling him, so that they almost succeeded with doing what the Bludgers hadn't managed.

"Charlie Weasley got the Snitch! He got the Golden Snitch in a rather unspectacular catch! Kinda anticlimactic, if you ask me, but whatever… That means, Gryffindor wins with three hundred and twenty to eighty!"

Hermione was grinning widely as she turned to Draco, who was running his hand through his hair. "Well, I guess this means that I won our little bet. This makes ten galleons for me."

However, instead of a rude comment or insult as Harry had expected, Draco only smirked and said, "You may have won this match, but the Cup will be mine."

* * *

After the match, the four of them had gone into their common room, along with Harry's and Ron's parents. The five males (even Draco had joined them) were once again going over the match, pointing out mistakes and good moves from both sides. The women were sitting in another corner of the room, mostly slandering about the men and their obsession with Quidditch. Harry watched them a bit out of the corner of his eyes and was glad to notice that Hermione got on so well with his and Ron's mothers from this time.

All too soon it was time for them to go to the Great Hall for dinner. In the Entrance Hall, the Potters and Weasleys said goodbye to their sons and their friends and left, as they had only come for the match and the few hours until dinner. ("Better get home now," Lily had said. "I don't want to know, what kind of nonsense Sirius has taught Harry in our absence." As answer James had only whispered into Harry's ear, "Only the ways of a true Marauder. See you soon, maybe sooner than you think.")

The Gryffindor table was still partying, chatting loudly and even singing and Harry didn't want to be in Hermione's shoes tonight. He could very well remember how much trouble McGonagall had always had to get them to bed after a successful Quidditch match.

When all plates were cleared and the students (especially the Gryffindors to continue their party) were about to leave, Dumbledore rose from the chair and cleared his throat. "Before you leave," he said smiling brightly with the seemingly ever-present twinkle in his eyes, "I have an announcement to make."

The students sat back down again and gave Dumbledore a curious look. Harry grinned inwardly, knowing exactly what Dumbledore wanted to say and what kinds of problems this announcement might cause for some of the students, as he had also been a victim of something like this a couple of years ago.

"This year, in light of the situation, the staff decided that you, as students, needed to have some more fun. Because of this a Halloween Ball will take place this year. Yes, I know that there are only two weeks left, but I believe this will be enough time for you to find a date and something to wear," he chuckled, when excited and worried whispers broke out at the tables. "The ball will be open for students of fourth year and above, though younger students may be invited by their partners. But for those who may not participate in this ball, a huge feast will be prepared in your common rooms. I promise that you won't come off worse, be it the feast or what you do afterwards. You will be provided with music and snacks, but only until eleven o'clock."

The younger students, who had started complaining, when Dumbledore had mentioned the age restriction for the ball, now also slowly got excited. If they didn't miss out anything, except for some stupid and formal dancing, it didn't sound as bad as before.

"I ask those who want to come to the ball, to put down your names on a list that you'll find in your common room within the following week, only for information, so that we know how many will come. Oh, before I forget, you may choose between either wearing formal wear with a simple mask (don't forget, it's Halloween) or you may dress up as you like. The Great Hall will be charmed, so that you won't be recognized by anyone, unless you tell the other about your identity. This charm will lift at midnight. Now, if there aren't any questions, you may go."

Excited chatter broke out again immediately after Dumbledore had finished his announcement, as the students filed out of the Great Hall. Harry was really glad that he, as teacher, didn't need to bring a date, but it would certainly be interesting to watch the students during the next two weeks. Oh yes, it would be fun to watch how they coped with the task to get a date.


	18. The Halloween Ball

**A/N: Thank you for your reviews! I'm glad that you're still reading it, even though there usually passes some time between the updates. This story will be finished, no matter how long it takes! Well, about the Bill and Charlie situation, I won't change anything, it's too important for the plot that they are at Hogwarts (or at least one of them).**

**Well, I believe it is almost my duty as author to say something to HBP… At first I was simply shocked by the ending, but then, the more I thought about it and talked to other fans, I decided that thing are not as they seem. Yes, the person is still dead and will stay dead, but we may not forget that we saw the death from Harry's perspective. He can't know what's going on in the other characters… **

**So, with that being said, I hope you have fun with this chapter!**

* * *

**Chapter 18: The Halloween Ball**

Time passed quickly and the Halloween Ball was drawing nearer, especially with a Hogsmeade weekend the week before the Ball. If Harry were still a student, he might haven been worried, if he still hadn't found a date, as it was already the Wednesday before the Ball, which was on Friday. Harry had even witnessed on his way to breakfast this morning, how a second year Hufflepuff boy asked, in a desperate attempt to be able to attend the ball, a seventh year Slytherin girl to go with him. Maybe this wouldn't haven been that spectacular, hadn't it happened in the Entrance Hall in front of almost the whole student body. The boy had been happy to escape this without any spell-damage, as Harry had managed to step in, before things would have gotten ugly.

The only truly negative aspect of the whole Ball was once again the inattentiveness of the students during classes. Harry was almost ready to give up on them, all of them, even the younger students who weren't allowed to attend. For the students, gossip about potential dates seemed to be much more important than anything he could teach them about DADA. He even thought about giving them a pop quiz, but then decided that it would be too mean. Instead he just revised the spells they had learned until then and allowed them to duel a bit. This would teach them something and give them the possibility to talk to each other.

But worst of all was not, in Harry's opinion, the behaviour of the students, but the behaviour of his fellow professors. Monday morning after Dumbledore had made the announcement, Harry had been pulled aside by Filius Flitwick. The tiny professor had asked him, how much he wanted to bet that two of their students would go to the Ball together. After a lot of stuttering, Harry had managed to get out of this conversation, but only because classes began. As he had found out later, Flitwick wasn't the only one who loved to gamble about their students' love life, as his other colleagues also approached him during the following days.

When he had asked Hermione about this, she had only blushed slightly and said, "Well, actually, I'm not surprised they're doing this, because it's the same in our timeline. Whenever there's a Ball or something like this going on, the professors put their gold on different couples. They also place bets on who's going to end up with each other at the end of the school year."

Harry had been horrified after Hermione had told him this, especially when he thought about how he had also been – or actually, still was, as his friend had conceded after some more prodding – victim of his former professors' entertainment in their time.

After he had found out about this disturbing news, Harry had managed to avoid this topic by making sure that there was always at least one student around, when he met one of his colleagues in the halls. At the weekly staff meetings, he excused himself as soon as the official part was over and the discussion of unofficial matters began. Much to the amusement of the other teachers, if he interpreted the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes correctly, whenever he left early. Of course, he also had to endure Draco's taunts and one or two comments about this from Ron, who found this entire situation extremely funny.

* * *

It was Thursday evening, just after dinner, Harry was sitting alone in the common room in his armchair and jotting down some spells that he wanted to try with his students the next day in one of his classes, when he heard a tapping noise at the window. He looked around and was surprised to spot the outlines of an owl in front of one of the windows. Quickly opening the window, after he had put the parchment and his quill on the table, he let the owl inside. It fluttered a bit around the room, before Harry could convince the owl to come down to him.

A parcel was tied at its leg, addressed at _Professor Hermione Granger, __Hogwarts__School__ of Witchcraft and Wizardry, __East__Tower_. "Come here," Harry mumbled gently, before he untied the parcel and placed it on the table next to his notes. After he had given the owl some treats, it left again through the same window and Harry closed it, wondering on his way back to the armchair what Hermione could have gotten and who had sent it. The handwriting was completely unfamiliar, but he also wasn't aware that Hermione had ordered anything lately. She would have told them, if she were expecting anything, wouldn't she?

His questions were answered, or at least some of them, when Hermione stepped through the portrait hole a few minutes later, followed by Ron. He waited until they had sat down and Hermione had noticed the packet to tell her that it was addressed at her.

"Really?" she asked surprised and picked it up. Her brows furrowed in concentration, as she gazed at the address, but eventually shook her head and hesitantly opened it. Harry and Ron both watched her and Harry noticed how Ron's hand twitched to the pocket of his robes, where he usually stowed his wand. Harry was probably thinking along the same lines, as he was also ready to will his own wand into his hand and do something in case the content proved to be dangerous somehow.

But nothing happened, when she opened it. No _bang_ or _poof_ and Hermione also appeared to be alright, as she took a golden necklace with a ruby coloured stone out of the small box. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a small 'o', as she examined the jewellery from all angles.

Harry was speechless and Ron sputtered, now holding his wand in his hand. "'Mione, put it down. It might be jinxed!"

"It isn't," Hermione snapped, holding the necklace protectively to her chest. "I'm still okay, not cursed. Besides, have you forgotten that the mail into the castle is being searched for curses? It's just a necklace. I just wonder, who sent it."

"Look, there's a note…" Harry finally managed to say and motioned with his hand to a small piece of parchment inside of the parcel. However, before Hermione could read it, Ron swiped it up and stared at it with scrutinizing eyes.

"_As sharp as your mind_," he suddenly read out, his voice sounding mocking. "_As fiery as your passion and as strong as your loyalty. Wear this necklace to the Ball and I will recognize you._ What is this nonsense?"

Hermione tore the note out of his friend's hands, seething with anger. "This nonsense is called _poetry_! Or at least an attempt at poetry. Whatever, it's sweet and romantic!"

"Just when exactly did you start to care about romance?" Ron barked. Both of them were standing by now and glaring at each other. "You never cared about this before! You always said that this kind of stuff was just something for _girls_!"

"I _am_ a girl! Just because it's taken you some years to notice it, it doesn't mean that it has suddenly changed! And besides, I was sixteen when I said this, Ron! _Sixteen!_ Even then I didn't mean it. I said it just to set me apart from Lavender and Parvati, whose behaviour had simply been sickening! Have you honestly never noticed how happy I've been, when you've done something romantic for me?"

Now it was Ron, who had lost all ability to speak. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but no sound came out, and Harry was glad for it. He didn't want to experience another one of those rows; there had simply been too many at the end of their sixth year and their friendship had never been more endangered than at this time.

"Err," Harry began, unsure of what to say to break this silence between his friends. "You really have no idea who could have sent you this necklace?"

Hermione shook her head and slumped down in her armchair, the necklace lying in one hand, the note clutched in the other. Giving those two items another glance, she carefully put them on the table and straightened the piece of parchment. Harry noticed that the handwriting on the note was the same as on the parcel and therefore unfamiliar. "It's just like with those roses. I'd really like to thank the person who sent me those things—"

"So you believe that they're from one and the same?" Harry questioned.

Nodding, Hermione looked up from the gift and sighed. "Makes sense, doesn't it? It appears as if I truly have a secret admirer somewhere out there." A small smile now tugged at her lips, as she put the note and the necklace back into the box and got up. "Well, I just have to wait two more days until I know who it is."

Right at this moment, Ron found his voice and yelled, "You aren't going to put this thing on and meet the bloke, are you?"

"Yes, I'm going to put this _thing_ on and meet the _bloke_," Hermione said firmly and picked up the parcel. "And there's nothing you can do to stop me from meeting him. You have no right. Not anymore," Harry heard her mumble and looked at her, concerned.

"'Mione, be careful."

"Don't worry, Harry," she reassured him. "I know you only care for my safety, but what should happen with all the other teachers, Dumbledore _and_ the great Harry Potter in the Great Hall? We will go to the Ball together, just as we intended, and then introduce ourselves to each other once we stepped inside the Hall. This way, we'll know who we are. Everything will be alright and I'm going to find out, who my secret admirer is and maybe, if he's a student, put him in detention," Hermione added with a wicked grin.

Harry laughed and even Ron couldn't suppress the small smirk on his lips. Harry noticed this and guessed that it would be a memory worthy enough to come close to the _Amazing Bouncing Ferret_ – incident in their fourth year to see Hermione put this _bloke_ in detention. Somehow, he only hoped that Hermione's secret admirer wasn't their colleague Christophe Hayden, because, to be honest with himself, he was the main suspect. Ron hadn't even needed to point out again and again how much time he and Hermione were spending together for Harry to come to this conclusion.

* * *

The last two days of classes passed almost in a blur, for both the students and the teachers. The last two weeks of revising spells and several creatures hadn't been wasted, Harry thought, as he watched the students of his last class of Friday file out of his classroom. Some things had already been forgotten again, but all in all he could say that he was proud of his achievements. Those students who had forgotten something, had just needed a push into the right direction to remember. It actually seemed that his lessons were at least mildly interesting.

When he arrived at lunch in the Great Hall late, after having brought his books back to his room, he immediately noticed that his wasn't the only empty chair at the staff table. The Great Hall was packed with students, and some of them greeted him amiably, as he passed them on the way to the far end of the Hall.

"Hey," he greeted Ron and Hermione, as he sat down between them. "Where's Draco?"

"He's sick," Hermione answered, passing Harry the bowl with the vegetables. She sounded a bit worried. "I met him, as he came back from the Hospital Wing and he really didn't look well. He was pale—" Ron snorted and Hermione rolled her eyes, exasperated. They still hadn't gotten over their argument, but it at least appeared as if they weren't going to fight again. "Paler as usual and Madam Pomfrey has told him to go to his room and administered bed rest for the weekend."

"But then—"

"He won't be able to go to the Ball tonight," she finished Harry's sentence. "Yes, and it's too bad that he can't go. I really believe that he's been looking forward to the Halloween Ball."

Ron raised his eyebrow. "What makes you think that he's been looking forward to this?"

"Honestly, haven't you noticed how Draco has changed over the last few weeks?" At the blank looks on both Ron's and Harry's faces, Hermione sighed. "Apparently not. Yes, he has changed. He's become a lot more, what is the right word, accostable. His students adore him, about as much as they adore you, Harry. It seems that he's a good and interesting teacher, not just knowing his stuff, but also being good with the students."

"How do you know all this?" Harry asked, completely dumbfounded. He still saw Draco only during the meals and sometimes, late in the night, passing through their common room, and Harry had never noticed anything different about his once enemy.

Hermione only shrugged and replied, "I have eyes. And I sat in on one of his lessons, oh, and don't forget my birthday – he's never given me a present before."

Neither Harry nor Ron knew what to say to this revelation. Harry wondered, how he could have missed this. Of course, he knew that Hermione had been one of the first to give Draco a second chance, after his role in the war had become common knowledge. She had seen past everything he had ever done or said to her and offered him, if not friendship, then a truce. But he would have never thought that Hermione would ever show that much interest in someone whose aim in life seemed to have been to make their life to hell.

"Why?" Ron finally asked.

Again, their friend shrugged and turned back to her lunch. "Curiosity."

Watching her out of the corner of his eyes, while he was helping himself to some mashed potatoes, Harry wondered if the reason for this sudden interest was really just curiosity.

* * *

Classes had been cancelled that afternoon, much to the delight of the students, so that they had enough time to get ready. Harry, Ron and Hermione had used that afternoon to visit Hagrid, whom they had befriended during the last few weeks, and the half-giant had told them happily that he would also come to the Ball. They talked for some hours, Hagrid having gone into a lengthy explanation of how his training of the Thestral foals was getting along, had a large cup of tea and the three time travellers fed the infamous rock cakes to Fang. Smiling, Harry thought that visiting Hagrid was still a thing that he liked to do, just to relax, even though this wasn't _their_ Hagrid.

All too soon it was time for them to return to the castle and, since the grounds were devoid of students, Harry used the few minutes until they reached the door to light one of his cigarettes. His friends looked at him disapprovingly, but kept quiet. Taking a quick glance at the open packet, he noticed that he needed to buy new ones soon (fortunately there was a store in Hogsmeade that sold Muggle cigarettes and his favourite brand on top of that), though another thing he noticed was that he had more left than he had thought. Had he really been so busy that he had _forgotten_ to smoke? Shrugging he put the packet back into his pocket and, once they had reached the entrance, disposed of the stub with a wave of his hand.

The hallways were empty, as probably all students were now in their Houses to get ready for the Ball or for the festivities in the common rooms. The three of them reminisced about the Yule Ball in their fourth year and laughed a lot on the way to their chambers, Ron even going as far as imitating Harry's attempt to dance, much to the younger man's annoyance. As revenge, Harry reminded Ron of his tremendous skills as attentive date. Hermione only shook her head at her friends' antics, but when they arrived at their portrait hole, the two men agreed that tonight they would pay close attention to the young couples to find out, if they had the same problems.

Once inside, they immediately went into their own rooms to get ready. Harry closed his door behind him and looked at the alarm clock on his bedside table. It was about half past four and the Halloween Ball would start at seven o'clock, so he still had more than enough time to… to do what exactly? There was still some homework that he needed to grade, but Harry wasn't sure if he really fancied to do this. There must be more important things he could do, and, as his gaze travelled to his bed, Harry knew exactly what this was. A short nap couldn't hurt before he had to take a shower and get dressed.

_"You did well," Harry hissed, as he looked down at the short masked person kneeling in front of him. He was sitting in an armchair, his wand resting lazily in his hand, in a large room. A fire was burning brightly in the fireplace in one corner of the dark room, but it seemed to be emanating no warmth. Another masked person was standing behind the kneeling one and two more figures were standing, no, floating, in front of a door and it was them, who caused the chill._

_"Thank you, my Lord," the first person mumbled and Harry smirked in satisfaction. It was a cleverly devised plan, hopefully enough to avert the attention from other matters._

_"Lucius…" The second person bowed slightly, his long pale blond hair falling over his shoulder. "You know what you have to do."_

_"Yes, my Lord."_

_"Very well. You may go now, both of you. The old fool will never know what hit him." Harry watched the two persons retreat and he felt how both suppressed a shudder, when they passed the Dementors. As soon as the door had closed behind them, a cruel smirk appeared on his face. Oh yes, tonight would be a night worth to remember… And he laughed, loud, the terrible sound echoing in the stonewalled room._

Harry was panting hard, when he awoke, pearls of sweat running down his face and his limbs were entangled in the bed sheets. His scar was hurting so much that it was hard for him to see anything. Closing his eyes, Harry forced his breath to calm down and his heartbeat to slow. It had been a few weeks, since he had last visited Voldemort's mind and after he had used Occlumency for so many years to block him out, it took some time to get used to those visits again.

Harry lay there for a couple of minutes, completely still, until he opened his eyes again and his room came into focus. His scar was still throbbing, but not as much as before and it was bearable. While he was carefully sitting up, he ran his hand though his hair, trying to remember, what this vision had been about.

Voldemort had been there. And two men. One of them was Lucius Malfoy and the other… Harry shook his head. He had been wearing a mask and though the voice had sounded familiar, the memory of the vision was still foggy and started to fade already and Harry couldn't figure out, whom it belonged to. They had been talking about something that would happen tonight. Only where? _Old fool…_ He meant Dumbledore! Something was going to happen at Hogwarts!

Harry had alreadyhalfway crossed his room to inform the Headmaster of what he had seen, when he stopped dead in his tracks. Telling Dumbledore would also mean to tell him about the connection he shared with Voldemort and Harry wasn't sure, if he wanted to do this.

But wasn't there something else, something he had missed? Harry tried to remember, but quickly found out that it was of no use. Everything except for what he had already recalled was gone.

Shaking his head, Harry went into the bathroom instead and stripped off his clothes. The water in the shower was almost scalding, hot enough to wash the effects of the vision off. His decision was already made. He wouldn't tell Dumbledore. Hogwarts was safe – Voldemort hadn't attacked the castle, Hagrid had told him that, when they had first met. And even if something was planned, Harry was sure that they would be able to stop it. He just had to keep his eyes open for anything suspicious and act, if he noticed something.

* * *

It was already half past six, when Harry stepped out of the bathroom, almost completely refreshed and a lot less worried, with a fluffy red towel wrapped around his waist. He waved a hand at the wardrobe and the doors and one drawer sprung open. Harry quickly selected the clothes he needed and took his black satin dress robes out, spreading them on his already made bed. Madam Malkin had tried to persuade him to wear other colours and in the end had only succeeded to sell him an emerald satin shirt. Black slacks and dragon hide shoes of the same colour completed the outfit.

After he had gotten dressed, he looked in the mirror, once again running a hand through his long hair. Open or tied back was the next question, which was quickly answered, when an extremely annoying strand of hair refused to stay where it belonged and instead fell into his eyes. He rummaged in one of the drawers until he found a black ribbon to tie back his messy hair. Harry took another look at his reflection and a male voice said, "You look truly handsome."

"Thanks," Harry muttered to the mirror, smirking. He had only gotten this mirror two weeks ago, when he had asked one of the House Elves if he could get one, so that he didn't have to use the one in his bathroom the entire time. What the House Elf had brought him was this talking and obviously gay mirror. It had taken some time getting used to it, but he believed that they now got along fairly well. Winking at the mirror, he turned on his heels and left his room, just in time to meet up with the others fifteen minutes before the Ball would start.

Again, as it was almost every time when he had to meet the others, be it for any of the meals or other things, Ron was already finished (Harry still didn't know how he was doing this) and waiting for him, or rather, them, as Harry noticed that Hermione wasn't there yet. Ron was wearing dark blue dress robes with a black shirt underneath, which were a huge improvement to the dress robes for the Yule Ball. "You look good," Harry complimented him grinning.

"You, too."

But when Hermione came out of her room, Harry and Ron were once again rendered speechless. She was wearing a long deep red gown with golden embroidery around the low cut chest and the rim of the gown. The long sleeves were almost transparent, as her pale skin shined through the fabric and over her shoulders she wore a golden rimmed cloak of the same colour as the gown. Her hair was running down her back in gently brown waves, adorned with small braids and golden pearls. Around the eyes her face was covered with a mask in the same style as the gown and the cloak and Harry's gaze finally fell on the piece of jewellery around her neck – the necklace from her secret admirer.

Ron had noticed this as well, as he just said, "You're really wearing this thing!"

"Yes I am," she answered, her voice once again cold, but Harry managed to cheer her up, when he ignored the necklace and said,

"You look lovely, 'Mione."

She smiled at him and replied, "You're also pretty handsome, my friend. As are you, Ron."

Harry poked his friend with his elbow, maybe a bit harder than intended, but it had the desired effect. "Yeah, 'Mione… Sorry. You're beautiful."

"Thank you," she said with a soft smile and extended both of her arms. "Well then, shall we?"

"Yeah… No, wait a second!" Harry suddenly exclaimed, as he waved his hand at the door so that it sprung open and muttered "Accio mask." The black piece of fabric soared into his open hand and he placed it over his eyes, where it just remained sitting, thanks to the magic. Ron had also put his dark blue mask on and they finally took Hermoine's arms. "Let's go."

The Entrance Hall was already bursting with activity, as the students waited to be let inside. Towering over all of them was Hagrid, wearing red clothes rimmed with white fur and a red pointy hat on his head. His beard and hair was white and if Harry wasn't wrong, he knew exactly, what Hagrid's costume meant. "Hello Father Christmas," he greeted him smiling.

"Ah, it's yeh, Harry, Ron, Hermione," Hagrid said smiling and bent down to kiss Hermione's hand. "Yeh look beautiful, m'lady."

A rather un-Hermione-like giggle escaped her lips, but fortunately the others hadn't the chance to comment on that, as the double doors suddenly opened and the students streamed inside. Ron and Harry again took each one of Hermione's arms and led her inside.

As soon as Harry stepped over the threshold to the Great Hall, a short, almost unnoticeable wave of dizziness washed over him, and if he hadn't known that the persons to his right side were Ron and Hermione, he would have wondered who they were. It wasn't as if they had changed. No, they looked still the same as before, only it seemed that his head couldn't make the connection between the persons next to him and their names. He had even forgotten, what his friends had worn, before they had entered the Hall.

Ron and Hermione (at least he was pretty sure that it was them) had similar confused expressions on their faces, so Harry quickly pulled them into a corner, where they might not be overheard – where would the fun be, if everyone knew who they were? – and said, "I'm Harry Potter."

"I'm Hermione Granger," Hermione followed his lead and next was Ron, who introduced himself to them.

Finally his mind was able to understand the connection between the names and the persons and Harry grinned. This truly was a brilliant piece of magic. When Dumbledore had said that the Great Hall would be enchanted, so that no one would be recognized, he had imagined that he would do something to change their appearances, but this was much better.

Now that they recognized each other again, Harry gazed around the Great Hall, impressed. The decorations were far better than at any of the Halloween Feasts he had attended at Hogwarts. The ceiling showed the dark cloudy sky and the lightning that flashed across the sky, followed by a low rumble. Hundreds of candles floated high above their heads, lightening the Hall in a soft glow and in the light, Harry could see many bats and grimacing pumpkins flying around, chasing each other. Now and then, one of the pumpkins would cry out or emit a wicked laugh. Scarecrows were standing at the walls and many other smaller, but no less scarier things were completing the eerie atmosphere of the Hall.

Instead of the four house tables and the staff table, round tables were littered in the Great Hall, much like it had been at the Yule Ball. Each of the tables were meant for about eight persons, though dishes might appear or disappear, when the guests of the Ball decided to sit with more or less persons at the table.

Ron tugged at his sleeve and motioned with his head to a table, where he could still see three empty seats. "Shall we sit over there?"

Harry looked at Hermione, who grinned and then nodded, before he answered, "Okay." They went over to the table and Harry asked, if they might sit down. The other guests, whoever they were, replied that they could and the three professors took the seats. Harry beamed, as he looked around and watched, how they all settled down at the tables, without inquiring about identities. This was truly great. It didn't matter, if professors shared one table with students, or Gryffindors with Slytherins.

Once everyone was seated, Harry wondered, if Dumbledore would say something, but instead menus appeared on their plates and a soft, but slightly creepy music began to play in the background. Since he already knew, how it worked, Harry picked up the menu and looked at it, grimacing slightly, when he read the first line. "Bloody Brains?" he asked, slightly disgusted, looking at his friends for help.

Hermione only smirked at him and said, loud and clear, "Crispy Cockroaches." Harry stared at her plate, not really knowing what to expect. He was almost ready to jump back or to vanish the plate, should there really appear cockroaches. But he truly should have known better, as her plate with filled with cevapcicis, along with some vegetable and chips.

Encouraged, Harry decided to try what had sounded so disgusting before. "Bloody Brains." A large helping of Spaghetti Bolognese found its way on his plate and after a quick glance to his left, he saw that Ron was already heartily devouring some chicken. A look at the menu told him that it was probably the Vain Vultures that Ron had tried out.

Soon, the Great Hall was only filled with sounds of clattering dishes and excited chatter, mostly about the decorations and the food. Too bad that it was impossible to try every dish on the menu, Harry thought disappointed, but his stomach already started to protest and he still had to have dessert. Only that the ice-cream and pudding were simply too delicious to resist.

After the last student (or was it a teacher?) had cleaned his plate, the dishes disappeared and the tables were all magically pushed aside, without disturbing the persons seated at them, of course, to reveal a dancefloor in the middle of the Great Hall, with a circular stage positioned in the middle of the dancefloor, surrounded by curtains.

Finally, after endless agonizing minutes, the curtains parted to reveal seven unmoving and equally ugly gargoyles. Harry raised his eyebrow, but some girls immediately started to shriek and spring up. Before he even knew it, Harry held his wand in his hand, but stopped, when he saw that the girls were dragging their dates to the dancefloor. "It's the Galloping Gargoyles!" one of the girls cried out. Harry wondered, what was so exciting about some stone figures, when they suddenly moved and conjured several instruments that looked remarkably Muggle (like drums and e-guitars) out of nowhere. At once the Great Hall was filled with the sounds of those instrument, the beginning of what appeared to be a rock song.

It didn't even take ten seconds until the dancefloor was packed with dancing people. "Come on, Ron, Harry, let's dance!" Hermione suddenly said and jumped up, grabbing their hands. Reluctantly, Harry let himself be pulled up, just like Ron, and on the dancefloor, mingling with the hopping students. Actually, the music wasn't that bad, Harry had to admit. He could get used to it. But while they were dancing, Harry noticed that Hermione was looking over her shoulder and around the Great Hall every so often, as if looking for someone.

Harry excused himself after the second song, fighting his way through the mass of people to the bar. He filled a glass with fruit punch and clinked his wand against the glass to make sure that it wasn't anything alcoholic (if it were, the red liquid would have turned green). Even if there were something alcoholic, he couldn't risk getting drunk. Not, when he still had to keep his eyes open for anything unusual.

"Ah, Harry," he suddenly heard a voice behind him.

Turning around, he looked confused at the person dressed in long and white flowing robes, holding a long white staff in his hands. Something clicked in his mind, as he tried to remember something, something Hermione had told him. "Gandalf?" he asked confused, remembering the name of the fictional wizard, whom Hermione had told him about just a few days before they had taken this unwilling trip to the past. _"We really have to watch the first movie, when it comes out this winter,"_ she had said. _"The whole Lord of the Rings series is truly fascinating."_

_Gandalf_ chuckled. "Not quite, Harry, though many people, who have read the books compare him to me. I'm Albus Dumbledore."

Just as it had already happened, when Hermione and Ron had introduced themselves, the confusion over his mind lifted and he saw Dumbledore standing in front of him. Harry grinned. "Nice costume."

"Yes, I know," Dumbledore returned his grin. "I first wanted to go as Father Christmas, but Hagrid beat me to it."

Suddenly, one thought hit Harry. "You recognized me, but I didn't tell you, who I was."

Dumbledore chuckled again, his eyes twinkling. "Well, someone has to keep an eye on things. It would be too dangerous, if truly no one knew the identities of the others in this Hall. For better security, I even asked some of the Order members to be here tonight."

"Really? Who?"

"Several… Ah, here's one. James?" he called out to a man in red robes. The man looked over, and, after he had recognized the Headmaster (as they had obviously already revealed their identities to each other), walked up to them. "James, would you like to keep this young man company? I was about to get Minerva some of this delicious fruit punch. Cheers!"

Harry and James both looked at the disappearing form of Dumbledore, as he mingled again with the mass on the dancefloor, obviously in search for McGonagall. Shrugging, Harry turned back to the man Dumbledore had called James and held out his hand. "Harry Potter."

James grinned and took the Hand. "James Potter. Gets a bit annoying, don't you think?"

"Yeah, but it's good to see the students interacting with each other like this, as if Houses didn't exist," Harry said, smiling. At least now he knew what his father had been talking about after the Quiddich match. "Do I know anyone else here?"

After having filled a goblet with the punch, James answered, "Next to your students and colleagues, I believe the only ones you know are Sirius, Remus and Peter. Oh, and you've already met Frank Longbottom, right? His son was born the day before you."

"Yeah, I know Neville… and Frank. So, the rest of the Marauders are also present… Where's Lily?"

"She had to watch little Harry, but told me to say hello to you. She actually asked, if you and your friends don't want to come to dinner sometime."

Harry shrugged. "Sounds good, by why don't we ask my friends first, they're over there." He pointed to a table near the dancefloor, where Ron and Hermione were sitting. "At least Ron and Hermione. Draco's sick."

While they were walking over to the table, James asked, "By the way, why do you call him Draco anyway? Is it a nickname or something? I thought his name was Eirian."

"It is," Harry half-lied, "but he doesn't like this name, so we call him Draco."

They settled down at the table, and after they had once again introduced themselves, Harry repeated James' offer. Ron and Hermione were happy to accept the invitation and they were just talking about a date for the dinner at Godric's Hollow, when suddenly a men dressed in silky silver sparkling robes cleared his throat next to Hermione and asked,

"May I have this dance?"

Harry saw that Hermione blushed slightly, as she nodded and took the offered hand of this stranger. Ron was glaring at their backs, as they stepped on the dancefloor, where the Galloping Gargoyles were now beginning to play a slow rock ballade called 'Good Night Sweet Girl' (he had heard a girl telling her obviously Muggle friend this). "You reckon this is him?" the redhead asked.

"I believe so…"

_Are we done for now  
Or is this for good,  
Will there be something in time?  
With us there should._

"I don't like him," Ron said, crossing his arms over his chest, as the young man rested his hands on Hermione's hips.

_Only girl for me is you  
There can be no other one  
If I didn't have faith  
I would come undone._

"A friend of yours?" James wanted to know, but Harry only shrugged, warily watching his friend dancing with this stranger.

_So much promise in your eyes  
Seems that I can only see  
It always makes me wonder  
If you save it all for me._

"'Mione's been getting those strange gifts from a secret admirer and he said he would meet her tonight," Ron answered instead.

James raised his eyebrow. "What kind of gifts?"

"A bunch of roses for her birthday," Harry informed him. "And the golden necklace that she's now wearing."

_Maybe you do  
Maybe you don't  
Maybe you should  
Probably wont..._

_Because there will be..._

_There will be other guys  
Who will whisper in your ear  
Say they'll take away you sadness  
And your fears._

_They may be kind and true  
They may be good for you  
But they'll never care for you  
More than I do._

_I'll be always there  
There to the end  
I can't do much  
But be your one true friend._

_To the end  
Through the end  
Our lives to spend  
With each other till the end  
Of time..._

_Still see the promise in your eyes  
And still wonder if it's for me  
But I know it's still there  
Even when you sleep._

_So I say, good night sweet girl._

They had remained silent for the rest of the song, Ron's and Harry's eyes seemingly glued on the dancing pair. _Damn that charm,_ Harry cursed inwardly. He wanted to know who that bloke was. He hadn't met Christophe Hayden yet, so maybe it's really him. Then again, it might just be a student.

After this slow song, the band started again a faster number and Hermione returned to the table, but only to take off her cloak and then disappear again in the crowd. Ron was fuming and Harry also felt some of the overprotective feelings kick in. To keep himself from staring at the dancefloor, where mystery guy and Hermione were now hidden behind other couples, he again started a conversation with James, though his heart wasn't in it.

Harry again let his eyes stray over the crowd, but didn't see anything suspicious. After a couple of more songs, three more persons fought their way over to their table and even though Harry couldn't recognize them, he was pretty sure about their identities.

"James, here you are!" one of them exclaimed and slumped down on a chair. "We've been looking for you. Sirius Black, and you are?"

Harry sighed and exchanged a quick glance with Ron, as both of them already knew that Sirius wouldn't be that friendly anymore, once they had introduced themselves. "Harry Potter."

"Ron Weasley."

Sirius scowled and one of the two still standing persons jumped back, hiding behind the first one, who smiled pleasantly and extended his hand. "Remus Lupin. Nice to meet you again, Harry, Ron, how are you and where are your friends?"

Smiling, Harry shook the hand and answered, "Thank you, we're fine. And as I already told James, Draco's sick, unfortunately, and Hermione is somewhere on the dancefloor."

"Let me guess, she's the lovely young woman decked out in Gryffindor colours?" the werewolf asked.

"That's her. Why don't you sit down? I'll get us something to drink. You wanna help me, Ron?"

While they were going to the bar, Harry was still able to hear Sirius hiss, "I still don't trust them." with Peter, though he hadn't revealed his identity, agreeing heartily and hear Remus answer, "James trusts them and so do I. Harry's a nice lad and so is Ron."

Harry and Ron returned a few minutes later with each holding three goblets in their hands to their table. Sirius and Peter had disappeared in the meantime, but James and Remus were still there and gratefully took the goblets.

* * *

A few hours later, midnight and therewith the end of the Ball was drawing nearer, Harry was standing at a far wall, observing everything that was happening in the Great Hall. A dull feeling had settled in his stomach, as though something bad was about to happen. _If_ his vision had really been one, and if he had interpreted it correctly, Voldemort didn't have much time left. But until now, nothing had happened and the Ball had proved to be much better than the Yule Ball, until now.

The only thing that had him a bit worried was the absence of Hermione. The last time he had met her outside the Hall, on the way to the toilets, and when he had asked her, who the mystery guy was, she had only answered, beaming, that she didn't know yet, but would hopefully find out soon, and had returned to the Hall. Harry had to admit, it had been a long time, since he had seen her this happy. He just hoped that this bloke wouldn't disappoint her, once he revealed his identity.

Harry was surprised, when Remus walked up to him and asked, "Mind if I join you? I'm not one for crowds."

"I don't mind," Harry answered smiling, understanding him perfectly well. The Remus of his time also didn't feel comfortable in large crowds.

They stood there in companionable silence until Remus suddenly spoke. "I meant what I said. I do trust you and your friends." The werewolf looked at him for a few moments, before he said, grinning, "You're truly the spitting image of your father, but you have the eyes—"

"Of my mother, yeah," Harry answered out of habit until he suddenly realized, whom he was talking to. "H-how?" he sputtered.

Remus shrugged, still grinning. "It's not that hard actually. I already found out about it shortly after you arrived, but I hadn't yet the opportunity to talk to you about this…"

"Does my— I mean, James know that you…?"

"No, not yet. Didn't want to cause him any trouble…I just wanted to talk to you first, to prove my theory. So, time travel, huh?"

Harry returned his grin, the spark in his eyes reminding him of Hermione, when she was about to learn something new and interesting. Harry just wanted to open his mouth to say something, when a cursing and scowling Ron approached them.

"I can't believe her!" he growled, as he stopped next to them, took the goblet out of Harry's hand and drank the remaining fruit punch.

Harry chuckled slightly, thinking that Ron maybe preferred something stronger than this, but was also a bit concerned. What could have enraged his friend like that? "What's wrong?"

"_Hermione!"_ he spat. "I just caught her kissing this bloke! This is—"

However, whatever Ron wanted to say was cut of, as suddenly every head turned to the stage, where right now Dumbledore was standing and tipped his wand at his throat. "In case some of you haven't noticed yet," he said, his voice loud enough to stop even the last of the chatter, "I'm Albus Dumbledore, though some of my guests have already addressed me with Gandalf, which was actually my intention with this costume."

A chuckle went through the crowd and a huge Father Christmas roared, "Cheers!" before he drowned a goblet that certainly wasn't filled with the fruit punch.

"Thank you, Hagrid," Dumbledore said grinning. "I hope you all had a good time and have talked to many people you normally wouldn't talk to. Please keep in mind that those people are still the same, even though the charm will be lifted in five minutes, and that you can still talk to them, no matter what House or family they come from. Now, that being said, I want you to enjoy those last minutes to their fullest, before you have to return—"

Dumbledore paused, as a loud _bang!_ was to be heard from the doors. Students that had been standing before them, immediately scurried away, as another one let the large wooden double doors vibrate.

"Whatever it is, stay calm! Prefects, be ready to bring the students back to their common rooms!" Dumbledore yelled and jumped from the stage with the agility of a young man. Harry willed his wand into his hand and noticed that Ron and Remus had also drawn theirs. So his vision hadn't been wrong after all. Out of the corners of his eyes, he saw a slightly flushed Hermione hurrying towards them, wand in her hand, but without her mystery guy. James and Sirius were on the other side of the Hall, standing in front of some younger students, while the older ones and others were now holding their wands in their hands, directed at the door.

A third and a fourth bang let the doors tremble even more, but the fifth one caused the doors to spring open. Students screamed and ran away, as something large and dark slithered into the Great Hall.

"A Basilisk!" a girl cried out and hid her face in her hands.

The Order members and teachers acted at once, sending spells and curses at the huge snake, the whole time trying to keep their eyes off the beast, but to no avail. It just shook them off, as its skin was too thick to be penetrated by stunners. But it was enough to avert the snake's attention from the students that were trying to flee through the door, all of them trying to keep their eyes closed or to avoid looking at the snake. One student fell in the doorway and brushed the snake's tail, which got its attention. The boy squeezed his eyes shut and tried to crawl backwards, as he had noticed that the snake was moving again.

"NO!" Harry roared, when he saw how the snake descended on the boy, the whole time trying to think of a spell that might help him, as other students and adults failed with theirs. "SECTUMSEMPRA!" he finally yelled and slashed his wand through the air, as he remembered one particularly nasty spell that he had once seen in Snape's memories and he succeeded, if just slightly. The snake reared back, as its skin was cut open, giving the boy the chance to flee.

Its head jerked around and Harry thought too late of closing his eyes, as the snake looked at him. He was almost ready to die then and there, as he gazed into the snake's yellow eyes, but much to his surprise, nothing happened. He was still alive and the snake was still just staring at him. One thought shot through his mind. This was no Basilisk! It was just a normal snake, just _slightly_ enlarged.

After endless seconds of staring and deafening silence, everything happened at once. Just as Dumbledore raised his wand, the snake lunged at Harry and the young man shouted, _"STOP!" _The snake back-pedalled and if the silence had been deafening before, it was now even more so, as almost each and every eye was focused on him. It was then that Harry realized what exactly he had done and, cursing his stupidity inwardly, decided that there was now no going back. _"What do you want?"_

If it were possible, Harry could have sworn that the snake tilted its head slightly, before it replied,_ "My massster promisssed me food. He sssaid I would find it here."_

_"Your master is wrong," _Harry said, pointing his wand at the snake. _"Tell Voldemort this. I won't let anyone hurt the students."_ He waved his wand and the snake began to shrink until it was barely one foot long. It hissed at him, but Harry only scowled and threateningly directed his wand again at the snake. _"Go now. Before I change my mind."_

Students and teachers alike jumped aside, as the snake slithered out of the Great Hall and through a small hole out to the grounds. Harry lowered his wand and winced, when he noticed that now everyone except for Ron and Hermione were staring at him – some in fear, some in disbelief and some in anger. The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes was gone, as the Headmaster gazed at him thoughtfully. Harry sighed. This was not how he had imagined the night to end. Only somehow he doubted that his night was already over. _What I would do for a fag right now…_

But no one had the chance to say something, as only a few seconds later a student (Harry could now recognize them all – it was past midnight) came running into the Hall, yelling, "The Dark Mark! Over Hogsmeade!"

**

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A/N: Okay, there are a few things I'd like to say… First of all, I have absolutely nothing against homosexuals. Secondly, the Sectumsempra curse is one I'd find deadly useful, no matter how dark it is and I believe it could have happened that Harry had seen Snape using it in a memory during their Occlumency lessons. Oh yeah, and the song "Good Night Sweet Girl" is a song by the band "Ghost of the Robot".**

**You know where the review button it. If you use it, I will be eternally grateful!**


	19. Repercussions

**A/N: Again thanks for the reviews! You really make me happy, so keep them coming! Okay, no questions from your side, this means that you don't need to listen to my ramblings any longer! Have fun with this chapter!

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**Chapter 19: Repercussions**

All was still for a split second. The students and teachers alike looked at the pale boy in shock, not wanting to understand, what he had just told them.

Harry balled his fists tightly, his fingernails almost piercing the skin of his palm, as his body began to tremble with sudden anger. Anger at his failure, at not having taken everything into account and anger at those, who had ruined this promising night! How could he have been so stupid? It had all been so simple!

The students around him now began to panic, pushing towards the doors and again, for the second time that night, Dumbledore's voice boomed across the hall. "Stay calm and return to your dormitories. Prefects, please make sure that they arrive in one piece. And now, go!"

More bustling filled the hall, but this time it was calmer, more orderly, as the pupils followed their prefects out of the Great Hall. Excited and fearful whispers reached the teachers and members of the Order, as they gathered in the middle of the Hall. Harry looked around and saw equally grim looks on their faces. His fingers were already itching, longing to go out and do something, but he had to wait for Dumbledore's orders.

Noticing the wary looks his colleagues were giving him, he just stared each and every one of them down, challenging them to say something, even though he knew that now wasn't the time. Now also wasn't the time to deal with another person that looked at him as if he had seen a ghost, obviously in denial about what he had just witnessed.

"My friends," Dumbledore said with a seriousness and determination that wasn't often seen within the Headmaster. "Hogsmeade is obviously under attack. It is our duty to help them."

"Bloody right," Harry mumbled impatiently, causing those near to him and the Headmaster to look at him. He gazed into Dumbledore's eyes and saw at once that the ever-present twinkle was still gone. With his wand in his hand, Harry motioned to the doors. "What are we still doing here? Instead of talking, we should go out and fight!"

"Harry's right," Ron told them. "The longer we wait, the more people might die!"

A collective murmur went through the teachers, some in agreement, some not, causing Harry to become even angrier. Suddenly, his head jerked to the right, as one smaller person with watery eyes stepped forward – Peter Pettigrew. "P-professor. I'm n-not sure, if we can trust him. You've seen, what he did. W-what he is."

Dumbledore nodded grimly and Harry was sure that he would be interrogated later. "Professor Potter and his friends will come with us to Hogsmeade. They will be of better use there," he said eventually. And not a danger to the students, Harry understood the hidden motive. "Minerva, Filius, Pomona, I'd like you to stay at school, for the students' safety. We can't let any Death Eaters invade the school. Alright, everyone else, follow me!"

Ignoring the angry looks he was getting, Harry pushed past the other teachers and Order members, with Hermione and Ron at his side and after Dumbledore. He was glad for his friends' support, as they flanked him on their way outside, but the rage in him was far greater than any happy feeling he could conjure. Hopefully there wouldn't be any Dementors, because Harry was sure that he wouldn't be able to perform the Patronus Charm.

There was no smile on Harry's face, just a look of sheer determination and a deep scowl. He could feel the stares in his back, particularly one, but he didn't turn around. He wasn't ready to face his father, yet. _Later_, he told himself. But first he needed to do some violence. He felt the irresistible urge to curse someone, to hurt someone. He wanted to punish someone for his failure.

"What the bleeding hell is going on here?"

Harry turned around startled, when he heard this voice. Draco was running down the stairs into the Entrance Hall, with his black T-shirt hanging over his black jeans and a cloak hurriedly thrown over his shoulders. His silvery blond hair was completely dishevelled, his eyes red and his ghostly pale face blotchy. He appeared to be wheezing slightly, when he came to a halt in front of them and sweat was running down his face.

"What are you doing here?" Harry demanded to know. "Hermione told us you were sick."

Draco sneered at him, even though it looked ridiculous in his current state. "I just got up to get something to drink and what did I see? A green glow in the direction of Hogsmeade. I came down to tell you about this, but you obviously already know." After having straightened his cloak, he pulled his wand out of his boot and ran a hand through his hair.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Calm down, Potter. I'm coming with you."

"You can't!" His father would be there, Harry reminded himself, but he couldn't tell Draco this. Not without giving his connection to Voldemort away. Struggling with an explanation, he only came up with the most obvious. "You're sick."

Snorting, Draco only replied, "A small flu like this can't keep me from fighting, Potter."

"Harry, Draco! Stop it!" Hermione interrupted them firmly, putting a hand on each arm. "We don't have time to fight! And Harry, get a grip! Draco will come with us, whether you like it or not. We might need every capable wizard we can get."

"Miss Granger, is right," Dumbledore said. "We need to hurry, as you've pointed out yourself, Mr. Potter."

Tearing his arm away from his friend, Harry snapped, "Fine!", opened the strong doors of Hogwarts with a wave of his hand and stalked out into the grounds. He couldn't lose any more time. Neither caring if his friends were behind him nor caring what they thought of him, he hurried over the grounds and, as soon as he had passed the gates, Disapparated.

Harry appeared in the middle of what could only be described as chaos. Villagers were running around, dodging flying curses and trying to find a hiding place. And among those villagers were the dark cloaked witches and wizards, who were responsible for this.

To avoid a jet of green light, Harry dived out of the way, immediately firing a stunner in the direction the killing curse had come from and hitting its intended target. His eyes darted around, searching for more Death Eaters. A series of loud 'pops' behind him alerted him of the arrival of the others, but he ignored them, rushing ahead to disarm another Death Eater and then knock him out with a well placed hook against his jaw.

His knuckles stung slightly, but Harry barely noticed this, as he kept on. Dodging, attacking, firing spells and curses. It was like a dance, a dance he knew very well. The Death Eaters went down like flies, now that the reinforcements from Hogwarts had arrived, and those, who were still standing, mainly targeted innocents and defended themselves against attacks.

He tackled another cloaked man, just as he raised his wand to curse a huddled group of small children. Quickly motioning for the children to run away and hide, he turned to the Death Eater that was just getting to his feet again. The unexplainable rage within him flared up again, when the mask fell aside and he recognized that the man was in fact a woman - dark haired and heavy-lidded.

"Hello Bella," he growled, kicking her with his boot, before she managed to get up. She slumped again to the ground, breathing heavily, as Harry had obviously managed to break one or more of her ribs. He had never had the chance to revenge Sirius. But now, now he could finally do it. He wanted to hurt her! He wanted her to be in pain! "Crucio!" This word left his mouth, before he had even thought it and the woman on the ground began to scream and writhe in pain. Harry watched this with some kind of sick fascination, his eyes gleaming with the satisfaction this torture brought him.

An explosion let the earth tremble and Harry lost his footing and almost fell. The loss of concentration in this moment caused the curse to fade. Whirling around, he saw that a few buildings went up in flames, with wizards and witches, who had hid in there, locked inside. They were fighting to get out, but almost in vain, as the mostly wooden buildings quickly collapsed under the fire.

Hermione was hurrying towards them, her red gown billowing behind her, followed by Ron, and Harry could hear her shout, "Aguamenti!", time and time again. Most of the fire went out, but also many lives were lost.

Somehow, this knowledge let an inexplicable happiness surge through him, a feeling of triumph. A smirk crept on his face, as he watched the happenings around him. This was good. All this fear, this panic… It was intoxicating.

He paled, when he realized, just what exactly he was feeling.

Harry barely managed to avoid another stray curse, as he slumped against a wall, grabbing his forehead, suddenly feeling sick. What was wrong with him? He shouldn't be feeling this. This was wrong!

Shaking his head and trying to clear his thoughts, Harry took a deep breath, as it hit him.

_Damn it!_ The anger, the happiness… Those weren't his own feelings! How come he hadn't noticed this before? It was Voldemort! He must have felt angry enough to transfer his feelings to him, after the disaster in the Great Hall. Only how had Voldemort found out?

_This isn't important right now!_ Harry reminded himself, not, when so many lives were at stake. It was hard, especially now with the battle raging around him, but he had to block him out. _Breathe…_ Slowly, but steadily, Harry felt himself calm down. The happiness disappeared, as did a large part of his anger, just in time, as a voice suddenly cried out,

"Harry! Watch out!"

Fortunately, it had just been a simple stunner, so the shield that Harry had conjured quickly wandlessly didn't break. He flashed Hermione, who was looking at him worriedly, a quick, reassuring smile, before he pushed himself off the wall. "I'm alright."

Hermione appeared to be doubtful for a split second, as if contemplating, if he truly told the truth. This short moment almost proved to be fatal, if Harry hadn't thrown her to the ground before an _Avada__ Kedavra_ could hit her. "Thanks, Harry," she mumbled startled, as he helped her up.

Now that he had the chance to take a good look at her, Harry was startled. Her once beautiful gown was torn in several places and stained with blood – hopefully not her own! – and dirt. She seemed to be sweating furiously, as strands of hair were sticking to her cheeks and forehead and the rest of her previously perfect hairdo was in complete disarray. And, Harry noticed with mixed feelings, she had lost the necklace. She looked a mess and Harry guessed that he didn't look much better.

Tearing his eyes away from her, Harry looked around, trusting Hermione to watch his back, and instead of feeling happiness his stomach began to churn at the sight that greeted him. It must have taken him longer to regain his composure than he had thought, as most of the fires were already extinguished, leaving behind wrecked homes and stores, homeless witches and wizards and despair. On the plus side, almost all Death Eaters had already Disapparated, having even taken their stunned or otherwise incapacitated companions with them. Except for one.

"No," Harry only mumbled and took off, with Hermione close at his heels, towards the two silvery blonds facing each other. He wanted to cry out Draco's name, but knew that he couldn't. Lucius would know, no matter what name he chose, now that he had taken a good look at the younger Malfoy.

Hermione almost bumped into him, when Harry suddenly stopped, only merely feet separating them from the two duellers. "Potter, stay out of this!" Draco barked immediately, when he had noticed their arrival. His grey eyes were cold like steel, his face filled with hatred and his body bursting with tension, all signs of his illness gone.

Upon hearing the other man's name, Lucius Malfoy turned his head slightly, taking in the younger man's appearance. "Potter?" he drawled. "Related to James Potter?"

_As if you don't know this already,_ Harry thought, but held his tongue. "We're cousins," he answered instead, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. Immediately he felt him attempting to breach his mind, without success.

"I see."

Harry thought that Lucius didn't sound convinced, but at this very moment, he didn't care. Raising his wand, he threatened, "Leave now. Your henchmen have fled already. If you don't leave, I'm going to kill you." Lucius Malfoy laughed, still keeping the superiority in his voice, obviously hoping to scare them. This only let Harry smirk. "Oh, tell your master that I'm going to kill him as well, if he ever dares to show his face around here." This would be two messages for Voldemort in one night. Harry guessed it would be better, if he kept exercising Occlumency, at least for the coming night.

One last sneer, a 'pop' and Lucius Malfoy was gone, leaving a furious Draco in his wake. "What the hell were you thinking, Potter? I told you to stay out of it!"

"You were going to duel with Lucius Malfoy!" Harry yelled back and then hissed, "With your father!"

"Harry is right," Hermione said, more calmly. "If you really killed him, you would have changed the whole future. Dumbledore still doesn't know, if our appearance in this time does have any effect on ours, so killing someone, who's still alive in our time, is simply too risky."

"Whatever," Draco grumbled and stuck his wand back into his boot. "But trust Saint Potter to play the hero. Death threats to Lucius _and_ the Dark Lord? Honestly. So much for changing history."

Waving him off, Harry began to look around the destructed street. "Where's Ron?"

"We were putting out the fires, when I saw the spell flying at you, so he must still be somewhere there. Maybe helping with the injured. They shall all be brought to Hogwarts," Hermione informed him, before she suddenly again looked at him, concerned. "Harry, what was going on with you? You didn't seem to be yourself, while you were fighting."

"I don't know," Harry lied smoothly, running a hand through his hair. His eyes wandered over his wand and he wondered, what the others would say, if they performed _Prior Incantato_ on his wand. An image of Bellatrix Lestrange writhing on the ground shot through his head, so Harry quickly cleared his mind. This had been the first time that he had cast _this_ Unforgivable and that it had worked. It made him sick, knowing all too well, what the victim had to go through. "I guess I was just out of it, after the attack on the Great Hall."

"There was an attack on the Great Hall?" Draco asked surprised. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"We didn't have time," Hermione said curtly. "There was a huge snake. We thought at first that it was a Basilisk, but then…" she trailed off, glancing at Harry.

"Oh Potter, tell me you didn't… This is just fan-bloody-tastic!" Draco exclaimed, when Harry lowered his gaze. "Why don't you just announce to the whole world that you're a bloody Parselmouth? I mean, it isn't as if we don't already have enough problems to be accepted here. Showing off your dark abilities might just help us!"

The whole time swearing under his breath, Draco stalked off towards where the others were standing, rounding up the injured, leaving a slightly ashamed Harry and a still concerned Hermione behind. "I-I should…" she began, motioning with her hands to follow Draco to help the others.

"It's alright. Go," he said, wondering if he should help as well. His questions was answered, when Dumbledore came up to him. "Headmaster," he greeted him grimly, feeling as if he had lost the privilege of calling him by his first name with the stunts that he had pulled in the Great Hall. First talking to the snake and then showing disrespect to the most respected Headmaster Hogwarts had ever had.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, somewhat kinder than before, but still without the twinkle in his eyes. "I believe we need to talk."

Confused, Harry asked, "Here? Now? Shouldn't we help?"

"There's enough help around here. Everything is taken care off. Now shall we?" Dumbledore handed him the broken sign of the Three Broomsticks and immediately he felt the tug behind his navel.

They appeared in Dumbledore's office, lit in the soft glow of candles with an elderly Fawkes standing on his perch. The phoenix glanced at Harry with his large beady eyes, trilling a soft tune. Harry couldn't help but smile slightly at the beautiful red bird despite the obvious tension in the room, while Dumbledore walked around his desk and sat down in his chair.

"Please, sit down Harry," Dumbledore said.

Not meeting the Headmaster's gaze, Harry sat down on one the chair in front of the desk. He could feel the older wizard's scrutinizing eyes on him and shifted nervously on the chair. Harry suddenly felt again like a student after having broken one or several school rules. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, "about how I acted towards you earlier. I was… I have no excuse for this…"

Dumbledore nodded in acknowledgement. "Apology accepted. But this isn't what concerns me. I'm not going to beat around the bush. You're a Parselmouth, Harry. I believe you know what this means?"

Sighing, Harry answered, "People will be scared of me."

"That they will… That they will. Revealing this… unusual ability might make your life in this time more difficult."

"I know," Harry admitted, finally looking up, noticing that Dumbledore didn't seem to be angry with him – more concerned, actually. His spirits rose a bit and with a small chuckle he said, "I've already gone through this in my time."

"May I ask, what you told the snake?" Part of the spark in Dumbledore's eyes had returned and the tension in the room lessened considerably.

A wry grin appeared on Harry's face. When he had first talked to a snake at Hogwarts, his fellow students hadn't asked this. They had just jumped to conclusions, believing him to be Slytherin's heir, siccing the snake on the Muggleborn Hufflepuff Justin Finch-Fletchley. In reality, he had called the attacking snake off, but no one except for Ron and Hermione and a handful of other students like Fred and George, who had used Harry's new won status to make even more jokes ("Make way for the Heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming through…"), believed him. "I told it to leave and to tell Voldemort that I wouldn't let him hurt the students."

Dumbledore gazed at him, his eyes slightly widened in shock. "You do realize that this will alert Voldemort of the existence of another Parselmouth."

Harry only shrugged, somewhat indifferently, but still with a slight smirk on his face. "He doesn't know, why I do have this ability, does he? He doesn't know that I have to thank him for this," he said, pointing at the scar behind his bangs. "For all I know, he might think that I'm some long lost relative."

Much to his surprise, Dumbledore suddenly barked out a hearty laugh, as if he found the situation of the long lost relative incredibly amusing. Harry noted happily that the twinkle had by now returned completely. "I believe it might annoy him greatly to believe that a Potter could be related to him."

"Well, why should he think that he's the only Heir of Slytherin?" Harry said grinning, but immediately turned serious. "I'm sorry, Albus. I didn't mean to reveal this ability. It just slipped out. I had to stop the snake and your spells barely worked. I blame my save-people-thing as Hermione usually puts it, but it can't be undone. We've got to live with this, somehow."

"You're completely right, Harry. You've got to live with this. I believe it also wouldn't hurt to tell your father about how you came to this ability. He was in great shock about this sudden revelation," Dumbledore advised him.

Running yet again with his hand through his hair, Harry sighed. "It's complicated. You said they shouldn't know yet about the Prophecy and my ability does have almost everything to do with it. Voldemort transferred this ability to me the night he attacked and gave me the scar."

"I already guessed as much. But maybe you don't need to tell him the true circumstances of this—"

"You expect me to lie to my father?" Harry exclaimed angrily.

"No, I merely expect you to tell him not everything." Dumbledore gazed at him over his half-moon spectacles. "I promise, Harry. When the time is right, I'm going to tell them about the Prophecy."

"Alright," Harry replied, suddenly feeling drained. This night had been rather… eventful to say the least and he began to long for his bed. "I'll to think about it."

"You should head to your rooms now, Harry. Everything's been taken care of. I'm sure you're going to meet your friends there."

* * *

"Future's past," Harry mumbled tiredly and the portrait swung open. Stepping inside from the dimly lit corridor, Harry blinked a few times to get used to the light in their common room.

He hadn't met anyone on his way from the Headmaster's office to their rooms, even after having taken a small detour past the Hospital Wing. It had been completely dark and he couldn't hear anything through the doors, so he just assumed that Dumbledore had been right. Everything had been taken care of and most had gone to bed.

As soon as the portrait had swung shut behind him, Harry found that he couldn't breathe under the load of long brown hair that had suddenly assaulted him. "Oh Harry, we've been so worried!"

"Don't worry," Harry croaked, slowly peeling Hermione off him. He saw that she had tears in her eyes and that Ron, who was standing a few feet behind her, was incredibly pale. "Dumbledore whisked me away from the battlefield. He wanted to talk to me." At the somewhat confused looks on his friends' faces, he elaborated, "About the attack of the snake and… what I did."

Looks of understanding passed their faces and they relaxed visible. Harry noticed that they hadn't changed out of their battle worn clothes yet and that both appeared to be nearly asleep on their feet. It had truly been a hard night.

"Where's Draco?" Harry asked, first now noticing the absence of the fourth time traveller.

Hermione chuckled slightly, before she explained, "When Madame Pomfrey had seen that he was with us and that he had been in Hogsmeade, she had immediately sent him back to bed. I believe he has actually done what she had told him, as he hadn't been here, when we arrived."

Harry noticed slightly bemused that Hermione didn't appear as worried about Draco's health as just a couple of hours ago, especially after the battle, but he didn't think much of it. He was too tired to deal with this right now. His bed was calling to him and there was still some other important stuff that he needed to ask. "Speaking of Madame Pomfrey. Where are all the injured that were brought to Hogwarts. The Hospital Wing is completely quiet."

Hermione and Ron exchanged a quick glance, before the redhead said, "Most of them had been transferred to St. Mungo's. Only those with light injuries stayed here over night and will be released tomorrow. The other teachers also agreed to help tomorrow, to, you know, clear up."

Nodding, Harry unclasped his ruined dress robes and threw the black cloak over his arm. "Well, I guess we have a busy weekend ahead of us. I'm gonna head to bed. Wake me, if I sleep in." With only a quick wave and a reassuring smile at his friends, Harry went into his room, where he only barely managed to strip down to his shorts before he slumped on his bed, already half asleep. It was only in his subconscious mind that he heard the House Elf picking up the lazily scattered clothes from the floor. First after it had disappeared with a quiet 'pop', Harry gave in to the darkness.

* * *

The following morning, when Harry and his friends, sans Draco, as he still wasn't allowed to leave his bed on orders from Madame Pomfrey, came into the Great Hall for breakfast, every single student fell silent. Harry felt their eyes boring into his back, when he passed them and was aware of the quiet whispers that the students exchanged.

_Great,_ Harry thought, his inner voice dripping with sarcasm, _this is just second year all over again._

Dumbledore smiled at them friendly, if also a bit subdued, while other teachers eyed them, and especially Harry, suspiciously, before they returned to their breakfast. When Harry glanced over the four house tables, he also noticed that several other people, bitter and defeated looking wizards and witches from Hogsmeade, were present. With a pang at his heart, Harry realized that those people must have lost a lot in the previous night.

As soon as all plates were cleared, Dumbledore rose from his chair with a sombre look on his face. "Dear students, dear guests," he began and once again no sound was to be heard from the students, as he had their rapt attention. "As you've probably all heard by now, there has been a Death Eater attack on Hogsmeade last night, with grievous consequences. A large part of the village was destroyed and the attack has cost many lives. Hogwarts is now host for witches and wizards, who have lost their homes. I ask all of you to help them adjust as well as possible." Murmurs of understanding went through the students, but Dumbledore raised his hands, silencing them once again. "There's, however, another thing I want to ask the students that are already of age: To rebuild the village, we need as much help as we can get. Your help would be very much appreciated. Thank you."

Several of the older students, who were already of age, meaning seventeen or older, began to whisper to each other, or simply nodded their approval. As it was a weekend, Harry heard that most of them wanted to use to it clear up or repair as much as possible. He was impressed by their dedication to do good things.

Just as the students wanted to rise from their tables, a huge flock of owls suddenly swarmed the Great Hall. _The mail is late today,_ Harry only thought, as the _Daily Prophet_ was dropped on Hermione's plate. Harry barely noticed this, as he was looking for the familiar grey owl of his parents, somehow hoping that they would write to him after the previous night, but in vain. Sighing, he turned to Hermione, only to see her ashen face, her lips pressed to a thin line, as she was staring at the front page.

"Something about the attack?" he asked curiously, now also gaining Ron's attention.

Hermione shook her head hesitantly and reluctantly showed Harry the front page. A deep scowl appeared on his face, when he read the headline.

**_Dark Wizard at Hogwarts_**

**Are our children still safe?**

_The previous night at Halloween, at the same time as the terrible attack on the wizarding village Hogsmeade (see page 3), a gigantic snake attacked Hogwarts, __School__ of __Witchcraft__ and Wizardry._

_The Headmaster Albus Dumbledore had been hosting a Halloween Ball for fourth year and above, when the attack occurred. Your reporter knows from good authority that next to the students and teachers also other _good friends_ of the Headmaster had been present at the Ball – supposedly for security issues. If this was really the truth is questionable, as only a few minutes to __midnight__ the Great Hall was invaded by above mentioned snake. Students panicked, at first believing it to be a Basilisk, and not even the renowned Albus Dumbledore himself had been able to bring order into the chaos. One student had almost been eaten alive, but a rather _questionable _curse had averted the attack. Professor Harry Potter, the new teacher for Defence against the Dark Arts, who had been present at the attack on the Weasley family last July (the _Prophet_ reported), had performed this curse and afterwards revealed his ability to talk to snakes, before shrinking the snake to its normal size and letting it escape after _exchanging a few more words _with the snake._

_As it is common knowledge, Parseltounge is regarded as a Dark Art and there's only one known Parselmouth next to the Hogwarts Professor – He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._

_Further, the news of Professor Potter's dubious teaching methods has recently reached your reporter. Apparently the Hogwarts professor teaches his students to say Vo— the name of You-Know-Who. Is Professor Potter trying to recruit new Death Eaters by using this method? Does he believe that he would gain new allies for You-Know-Who by teaching them to no longer fear his master's name?_

_Again__ many concerned witches and wizards doubt the Headmaster and his reasons for keeping an obviously dangerous man like Mr. Potter employed. A man, who always claims to only have the best interests of his students at heart, should choose his employees more carefully. This is an advice from the _Prophet_ and worried parents out in the Wizarding World, whose children are attending Hogwarts._

_The _Daily Prophet_ will of course keep you informed about the happenings at Hogwarts._

_This article was written by R. Montgomery_

_The attack on Hogsmeade – page 3_

_A History of Parselmouths – page 9_

Harry groaned, as he had finished the article and put the newspaper aside, burying his face in his hands. "Fan-bloody-tastic," he only mumbled, using Draco's words from the previous night to sum the whole situation up.


	20. Damage Control

**A/N: I know, I know, it took me incredibly long to get this chapter out, but so much has happened in the last month that I barely had time to write. I moved into my very first flat and I started at university and the beginning had been rather hectic. I can only hope that it gets better and that my stories won't have to suffer (much). **

**However, before I start, my responses to your reviews. I can tell you only one thing about R. Montgomery – you're still going to see or hear more of this character. I believe you've found this by now, Ellen, but I'm gonna say it anyway – Harry started smoking during seventh year.**

**Alright****, no more questions? No, great, so we can move on to the chapter! Have fun!**

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Chapter 20: Damage Control**

Harry Potter wasn't known to complain about hard physical labour, especially in his line of work, but when he got back to the castle on Sunday night, just in time for dinner, he wished that he could just skip the meal and head back to his room to get some well needed rest.

The previous two days had been extremely strenuous – both physically and emotionally. Hogsmeade was almost completely ravaged and even with magic it would take a long time to rebuild this village. The death toll was high, higher than he had imagined and somehow Harry couldn't help but think that this was partly his fault.

He hadn't known of an attack on Hogsmeade, so what if their appearance in this time had provoked Voldemort to order this? This was the only reasonable answer he had been able to come up with, while he had been rummaging through the ruins, hoping to find any undetected survivors and helping clearing up the mess. Someone in his time surely would have told him, if Hogsmeade had been attacked during Voldemort's first reign of terror, but they hadn't, ergo the village hadn't been attacked before. By going back in time, he and the others had unwillingly changed something and this change had had drastic and dramatic consequences.

After having come to this realization, Harry could only hope that Dumbledore was right with his theory about the different timelines. Otherwise he didn't even want to know, what this attack might have caused to change in his own future.

The stares he had felt in his back the whole time hadn't helped to relieve the growing guilt at all. As a matter of fact, they had only helped to intensify this feeling at least tenfold. Already the wildest rumours were being spread, ranging from Harry being a simple Death Eater to being Voldemort's right hand man and heir. Who else would know Parseltongue than someone very close to You-Know-Who? Maybe they were even related? Brothers, he had heard at some point, as someone had brought up that young Tom Riddle and he looked somewhat alike.

_Bloody marvellous mess you've got yourself into, Potter,_ Harry had berated himself repeatedly over the course of the weekend. To deal with this, Harry had done what he knew best – he had retreated into his shell and not talked to anyone, not even his friends. Until now, he had avoided them as much as possible by having gotten up in the morning before them, then during the day trying to work far away from them in Hogsmeade and at night returning to his room long after they had turned in. He knew that they were worried, but they couldn't help him. He had done this all by himself, so he also had to find a way out without help.

He just had to find a way, Harry thought somewhat crestfallen, as he crossed the Entrance Hall and noticed how the students shunned him. He had been one of their favourite professors and now they were afraid of him. This just wasn't right.

Harry just wanted to open the door to the Great Hall, already hearing the sounds of clattering dishes, as he suddenly heard someone clearing his throat behind him. Turning around startled, Harry found himself face to face with the Headmaster.

"Albus," he mumbled in greeting. He hadn't seen him at all during the weekend, not even during the meals, after his speech to the students on Saturday at breakfast. He hadn't thought much of his absence, believing it to be due to important business dealing with the attack, but now he began to wonder slightly.

"Harry, I'm glad that I met you…" Professor Dumbledore said with a light smile, as he looked at the young man through his half-moon spectacles. Harry raised his eyebrow at this, already expecting that their meeting hadn't been an accident. "Would you please accompany me to my office? It's important."

With a heavy sigh, but at the same time glad that he didn't need to face the student body yet, Harry nodded and followed the Headmaster through the corridors to his office. The stone gargoyle sprang aside, after Dumbledore had said the password (Apple Pie) and together they walked up the spiral staircase. Dumbledore was chatting amiably about one thing or another, but Harry didn't listen to him and stopped dead in his tracks, when the door opened and he saw his parents with their little son sitting in front of Dumbledore's desk.

Harry froze, almost ready to take a step back, but swallowed hard, as Dumbledore stopped next to him and Lily and James Potter rose from their chairs, both with grim looks on their faces. He wasn't ready for this! He hadn't even thought about what he was going to tell them!

"Harry," James only said, while Lily tried to offer him a small ensuring smile, when Dumbledore gave Harry a small push towards his parents. Somehow, it seemed, as if the rift that had been between Harry and his father at the beginning had returned, as if he had lost all of his father's trust.

It hurt.

The three months old baby in Lily's arms squealed, but otherwise a heavy silence was weighing upon them. Eventually, Dumbledore walked around them to his desk and sat down in his chair, while the three Potters were still simply staring at each other, not knowing what to say.

"Why don't we sit down for this?" the Headmaster offered kindly and Harry finally managed to avert his father's accusing and his mother's confused eyes. Turning his head away, he sat down in one of the offered chairs, now staring at the ground. He heard how his parents also sat down and waited for Dumbledore to continue. It was an agonizing long wait and Harry could practically feel his parents' gazes upon him.

What the bloody hell was he going to do now? What should he tell them? Dumbledore had advised him to tell his parents partly the truth. He needed to keep essential information out of it, like the Prophecy, or the exact time of the attack, or the fact that it had been the Killing Curse that had given him the scar and therewith transferred some of Voldemort's abilities to him.

It would be extremely difficult. Somehow he doubted that his father, or his mother for that matter, would be satisfied with what would be left of this story.

"I believe you all know, why we're here now," Dumbledore suddenly said again, startling Harry out of his musings. "It's about the happenings two nights ago, when the snake attacked and something was revealed that rather should have been kept a secret—"

"A secret!" James almost yelled, outraged, effectively cutting off the older wizard. "You said that it should be kept a secret that my son, if this man even is my son, has the ability of a dark wizard?"

Dumbledore sighed and Harry could almost believe he heard the weariness in his voice. He was right. His father didn't trust him anymore. "I'm your son," he mumbled, not giving Dumbledore the chance to answer. "Everything I told you about me is true. There are only some things that I didn't tell you. And you knew this." Harry hoped that this would appease his father a bit. Hadn't James, not so long ago, told Harry that he didn't need to worry about keeping things from them as long as they didn't know what effect this information might have on this time?

It seemed as if James was about to explode again, hadn't his wife put a calming hand on his forearm and shot him a warning glare with her blazing emerald eyes. "He's right," she simply said. "James, you told me yourself that there are some things that Harry didn't tell us. You accepted this. I'm sure he has his reasons for not telling us about this."

"And I hope he has damn good reasons… And that there is a damn good explanation for the reason why my son is a Parselmouth! There's never before been a Potter, who was able to talk to snakes," James growled, but apparently he wasn't going to yell again, something Harry was rather grateful for.

He gave his mother a quick thankful smile, before he briefly locked eyes with the headmaster, as if asking if he should really do this, if he should really tell them. After Dumbledore nodded his head once at him, Harry took a deep breath. This certainly wasn't going to be easy.

"You're right," Harry said to his father, hoping that this might somewhat soften the blow. "There has never been a Potter, who has been _born_ with the ability to talk to snakes. I can thank dear old Voldemort for being able to do this."

"Why?" Lily asked, looking slightly worried.

Reaching up, Harry parted the bangs on his forehead to reveal his famous lightning bolt shaped scar. "This is a curse scar," he explained. "It's actually quite simple. Voldemort attacked me and gave me this scar. However, by doing this, he also transferred some of his abilities to me, like Parseltongue."

Harry watched a bit guiltily, how Lily's hand flew to her mouth, when he had mentioned Voldemort's attack, and the widening of James' eyes at the same moment. He knew, he had really only given them the short version of this, but he wasn't sure, if he could tell them more. He only hoped that they wouldn't ask further questions. Unfortunately, luck wasn't on his side, when James uttered only one word. "When?"

Shaking his head, Harry replied, "I can't tell you. I'm sorry."

"Why not?" his father prodded, sounding somewhat desperate. Harry could only understand him too well. If it had been him, who had gotten this news, he probably would have reacted the same way. "Is it going to happen soon? What curse did he use? How did you escape?"

"I can't answer those questions," he mumbled, avoiding their worried gazes. "Maybe someday, when we are sure what effects our appearance in this time has, if it somehow affects my time as well, I can tell you. But not now and not here. I just want you to know that I'm no dark wizard and certainly no Death Eater. I discovered that I'm a Parselmouth by accident and it already caused me a lot of problems in my time."

"Does Voldemort know about this?" Lily wanted to know, unconsciously clutching her baby a bit tighter and holding the boy closer to her body, as if she feared that Voldemort might attack at any moment.

Harry saw the fierce protectiveness of a mother in her eyes and he was glad that his mother was so passionate about this and really loved him enough to defend him with her own life – otherwise he wouldn't be sitting here.

_In less than one year…_

Blinking a couple of times to get rid of this thought, Harry finally replied, "The Voldemort in my time knows that I'm a Parselmouth and also that he's responsible for this. As of now, the Voldemort in this time only knows that I'm a Parselmouth, courtesy of a message I asked the snake to deliver. He doesn't know yet that he will attack your son someday and transfer some of his powers to him. All I know, it couldn't happen at all in this time. It depends on how much we've changed already."

Silence fell over them after this and Harry noticed that James appeared to be contemplating something. His father's eyes were resting on him, making him slightly uncomfortable, but he didn't show it. If he showed any weaknesses now, it might harm his credibility. He believed that at least his mother trusted him again, but he wasn't so sure about his father. He was probably more inclined to listen to Sirius, who, Harry was completely sure about this, mistrusted him now more than ever.

"May I ask another question?" James finally spoke up, breaking the heavy silence upon them. At Harry's nod, he continued, "You talked about abiliti_es_, meaning you've got more than one from Voldemort. What are the others?"

Harry grinned slightly, as he waved his hand and the bowl with Sherbet Lemons on Dumbledore's desk began to float. "I've got a knack for wandless magic, though it's a bit draining, if I perform difficult or long lasting spells." Without saying anything, the bowl softly dropped back to the desk and Harry began to think. "Also, some people say that my magic in general is more powerful than the magic of an average wizard, though I still doubt this somehow. Oh, and before I forget…" He willed his wand into his hand and held it up, so that all of them could see it. "The core of this wand is a phoenix feather and Ollivander told me that the phoenix gave just one more feather for a wand and guess whose wand it is."

Both James and Lily gasped in surprise, while Dumbledore was only gazing at the tiny wrinkled newborn bird beneath the phoenix's perch behind them. "I see…" the headmaster mumbled with a slight smile and Harry noticed that, while Frank Longbottom had told Dumbledore that the core of Harry's wand was a phoenix feather, he hadn't had the chance to tell him which phoenix had given this feather. Only too late did Harry realize that telling them the part about his wand had been the most obvious way to deduce that Harry had been attacked as a child.

"B-but…" Lily stuttered. "Voldemort attacked you before you went to Hogwarts? How did you survive?"

"I—" Harry was at a loss of words. He looked to the headmaster, but he was offering no help. He was now completely alone. Should he tell them or not? "It was l-luck," he said eventually. "I've been lucky and was able to escape and I had loads of help." At least this wasn't a complete lie. Harry had usually been lucky, when he had faced Voldemort, and without Ron and Hermione he wouldn't have come far during their adventures at Hogwarts. His luck and his friends had helped him to survive so often by now that he didn't want to miss them anymore, no matter how much he wanted to protect them. They had once only told him all too bluntly that they would be there for him and fight at his side until the end.

"I see," James mumbled, although Harry thought that his father didn't look convinced. However, as long as he didn't ask any further questions and understood that there were things that Harry didn't want to and couldn't talk about yet, it didn't matter if James bought his story or not.

Suddenly, Dumbledore clapped his hands once and got up from his chair with a bright smile on his face. "Well then, I believe that now, after this rather enlightening talk, I shouldn't keep you any longer. This previous weekend had been rather stressful and classes start again tomorrow. If you're quick, you might still get some dinner, Harry, otherwise I believe James could show you to the kitchens, if you don't know already, where they are."

Harry flashed him a grateful smile, glad that this conversation seemed to be over now. He rose from his chair, at the same time as his parents and together they left the office, with a mumbled goodnight to the headmaster, but otherwise in complete silence.

Their footsteps echoed through the deserted stone hallways of Hogwarts. Harry was walking slightly ahead of his parents, with his hands pushed into his pockets. He felt somewhat relieved, but still, it was kind of awkward to be alone with his parents now. There were still so many things that they didn't know, so many things that he wanted to tell them but couldn't.

_Bloody prophecy!_

Once they reached the Entrance Hall, Harry turned around with a silent sigh, as he was pretty sure that his parents wanted to leave now. "So, I'll see you around, I guess…" he mumbled, not really eager to meet their gazes.

"Actually…" Harry looked up and saw that Lily was smiling at him warmly. "I believe James told you about the invitation to dinner. Well, you and your friends, you're still welcome to come by."

Offering her a small smile, he replied, "Thank you… I'll get back to you." And then, after having taking a look around to make sure that they were completely alone, he added, "Mom, Dad, I'm sorry you had to find out this way. If I could tell you more, I promise, I would do it. But circumstances—"

"Don't allow it," James agreed thoughtfully. "We know and I'm sorry that I didn't have more trust in you." Suddenly, a slight grin spread over his face, as he said, in an attempt to lighten the mood, "Well then, Harry, you should go and get some dinner. I don't want my son to starve to death. Or do you want me to show you to the kitchens?"

There was a mischievous glint in James' hazel eyes and Harry couldn't suppress a chuckle. "No, thanks, but I believe this won't be necessary. You seem to forget that I'm the son of a Marauder. I know my way around Hogwarts."

Harry could swear that he heard his mother mumble something like 'Honestly' under her breath and his face broke into a grin. It truly was no wonder that she and Hermione hit it off immediately. They were just so much alike, though, as far as he had noticed until now, his mother's temper was worse than Hermione's and if he looked closely, he also saw some mischievousness in her eyes, reminding him very much of another redhead.

"James, I think we should go now. It's getting late and little Harry still needs to eat before he has to go to bed," Lily said.

"You're right, honey," James agreed, smiling lovingly down at the boy in her arms, who just opened his mouth for a large yawn.

Harry watched this fondly, though he also felt some jealousy welling up. He knew it wasn't fair to envy this baby, especially since it was his other self. This boy should have his parents and enjoy his time with them as long as possible, because one year from now, he would suffer the same fate as his older counterpart.

"Remember the invitation," Lily reminded him with a wink.

"Don't worry," Harry replied with a smile. "I'll talk to my friends and then I'll owl you."

After a quick goodbye, Harry watched them leave the castle, before he also turned to go to his quarters. He wasn't hungry anymore and just wanted to go to bed. Tomorrow was a new day and he had to brave the fear and anger of his students. But now, he thought, after the talk with his parents, he hoped that it would be easier to face them and he wouldn't forget his father's parting words.

_Keep your pecker up!_

* * *

When Harry strode through the Great Hall the next morning, he did this with his head held high and a confidence in his steps that hadn't been there the days before. He wouldn't let this situation get him down. He was here at Hogwarts to teach and he knew that he was good at it. As long as he taught this students something and helped them to prepare for the war outside the secure walls of Hogwarts it didn't matter, if they liked him or not.

But still, he wouldn't give his students up without a fight!

He stopped in front of Dumbledore and conversed with him quietly for a few moments, before the headmaster nodded and got up from his chair. Dumbledore clapped and immediately got the attention of everyone in the Great Hall. "Professor Potter would like to say something," he only said, before he sat down again and motioned for Harry to start.

After having quietly cleared his throat once, Harry said loudly, "I believe you all know what I want to talk about, seeing as you've either been present at the attack on the Great Hall or read it in the _Prophet_. To answer some of your questions, yes, I'm a Parselmouth, meaning I can talk to snakes, but no, I'm neither a supporter of Voldemort nor a dark wizard. While it is true that there have been some dark wizards and witches who knew Parseltongue, it isn't true that all Parselmouths are essentially evil. Just like not all Slytherins are evil and all Gryffindors are good. Just like not all pureblood wizards are exceptionally good and muggle-borns are bad at magic. I know exceptions to all of those prejudices. Just believe me that I'm an exception to the Parselmouth prejudice. Believe me that I would never, _never_, support Voldemort. He and his followers killed people that I cared about, so don't believe for a second that would want to kiss the hem of his robes. Quite the contrary, actually. If I ever get the chance, I'm going to make that bastard pay for everything he has done!"

Harry noticed that he had gotten slightly out of breath, as his speech had gotten more and more passionate towards the end, but he didn't care. He only hoped that he had been successful with his message.

"Thank you," he just mumbled, before walking around the staff table to his seat.

Harry knew that Ron and Hermione were staring at him in awe, but none of them said anything. Neither did anyone else in the Great Hall for several seconds, until he suddenly heard someone clapping. He looked up and around and his gaze landed on the Ravenclaw table, on Benjamin Linford from fourth year to be precise. The mousy boy was the only one standing and clapping so loud that it echoed in the whole class. Then another joined him and Harry was glad to see that it was Bill Weasley, closely followed by his brother Charlie. Slowly, one by one, students got up from the benches and started to applaud.

In the end, it was about half of the student body, that was showing him their support, even some from Slytherin House, and Harry almost fell from his chair, when he felt a hearty clap on his back. "Well done, mate," Ron said grinning.

Hermione hugged him tightly, also grinning brightly and even Draco, who, Harry noticed relieved, was finally allowed to show himself in public and work again after having cured his flu with a lot of rest, said, "Nice speech, Potter. I hope this got at least some of them off our backs."

It took some minutes and some warning words from Dumbledore until the students calmed down again and turned their attention back to breakfast, though the headmaster had winked at him, while his friends had been congratulating him. Harry gave him a grateful smile, because, even though he was glad that so many students were still or again trusting him, all the attention had been slightly embarrassing.

Fortunately the owls began to sweep down through the windows at the same moment as the students started to calm down, so most of their attention was now drawn to their letters and packages. Harry started, when once again one of the owls landed directly in front of Hermione with a small package and a note. Harry looked over to her, as she unfolded it and read,

_I believe you lost this._

It was the handwriting of her secret admirer.

Immediately, she put the note aside and a huge smile spread over her face, as she unwrapped the package and saw the golden necklace from her secret admirer. Though also being slightly suspicious, Harry was happy to see her smile like this. But now that he saw the necklace, he remembered that Hermione hadn't told them who her secret admirer was. He just wanted to ask that question, but Ron beat him to it, before he could even open his mouth.

"I-I can't say…" Hermione said, lowering her head slightly, but Harry could still see there was still a smile and also a reddish tint on her cheeks. "He-he asked me not to tell anyone, yet."

"But you know who it is?" Harry wanted to know. He would be worried for Hermione, if she still didn't know his identity. After all, if he believed Ron, they _had_ kissed.

Still smiling and fondly running her fingers over the ruby in the necklace, Hermione simply replied, "I know."

Harry was somewhat relieved, but still one thing irked him.

_Who the bloody hell was it?_


	21. Dinner with the Potters

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait. Life at university had been extremely stressful, but here it finally is! The new chapter! Have fun!**

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* * *

Chapter 21: Dinner with the Potters**

It was on a sunny Saturday morning at the end of November - the weekend of the Quidditch match Slytherin versus Ravenclaw - that an owl came sweeping in through one of the high windows of the Great Hall and dropped a fiery red envelope directly on Harry's plate, which was still filled with some scrambled eggs. Some of the yellow substance went flying onto Harry's freshly laundered robes, which put a scowl on his face. However, the most alarming wasn't the stained robes, but the smoke that was rising from the envelope.

"Bloody hell, Harry!" Ron exclaimed worriedly, while earning a few reproving looks from the teachers around him. "Who'd send you a Howler?"

First now Harry really seemed to take notice of the nature of the letter and paled immediately. _Harry Potter, Great Hall, Hogwarts_ was written in curvy letters on the envelope. The Howler was really for him. He looked around helplessly, as he wasn't too keen on opening the Howler while he was still in the Great Hall with a large number of students present, whose gazes were slowly drawn to the staff table. Ron's loud voice hadn't helped much to keep a low profile during this.

"Harry," Hermione whispered to him, a note of urgency in her voice, as if she feared what would happen, if he ignored the envelope. "You have no other choice."

Swallowing hard, Harry exchanged one last glance with his best friends, the whole time pointedly ignoring the amused smirk Draco was giving him and the curious looks and snickers of the students in the Great Hall, before he picked up the Howler. _Come on, it can't be that bad,_ Harry tried to calm himself. _This can't be worse than facing Voldemort!_ With a deep breath, he slit it open.

Immediately Harry remembered just why exactly he detested Howlers that much, as the deafening yells of a female voice filled the Great Hall, almost bursting his eardrums.

_HARRY POTTER! FOUR WEEKS! ALMOST FOUR WEEKS WITHOUT A WORD FROM YOU! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? HAVE YOU ALREADY FORGOTTEN ABOUT THE INVITATION? WELL, I'M STILL WAITING FOR YOUR ANSWER, SO YOU BETTER MOVE YOUR LAZY BUM AND OWL ME BACK! I'M SURE YOUR PARENTS MUST HAVE RAISED YOU BETTER THAN THIS! OH, I'M SURE THIS HAS TO BE YOUR FATHER'S FAULT! IRRESPONSIBLE… WELL, WHAT ARE YOU STILL WAITING FOR? DINNER WILL BE SERVED AT SEVEN TONIGHT, SO YOU BETTER BE IN TIME! DON'T FORGET TO ASK YOUR FRIENDS, IF THEY WANT TO COME ALONG AND DON'T FORGET TO OWL ME HOW MANY YOU'RE GOING TO BE! I'LL BE WAITING!_

Directly after the echoes of the last words began to fade, the red envelope burst into flames and curled into ashes directly above Harry's breakfast. Harry's hands were shaking a bit and he was still quite pale, but inwardly he couldn't help the joyful warm feeling that spread through chest into his limbs. This was the first Howler he had ever received from his mother!

But still, her voice had sounded terribly frightening. And the reproachful tone she had used made him feel bad on the insides. Harry felt guilty. How could he have forgotten? He had, after all, promised his parents that he would talk to his friends about the invitation to dinner and then get back to them. This had been nearly four weeks ago. And he hadn't written a single letter, let alone Floo called them. He knew that his excuse wasn't a good one, but he simply hadn't found the time to answer. There had simply been too much going on.

First, even after his speech, he had needed to restore his position among both students and teachers. It had been hard, still was at times, especially since that bloody reporter Montgomery kept the slandering articles about him and his friends coming. In his own time he had long given up on the _Prophet_ and two weeks ago, he had even stopped reading it in this time. As long as Hermione kept him up to date with the most important happenings, he could save the Knuts for something better and definitely more useful than the _Prophet_.

Then there was still the aftermath of the attack on Hogsmeade. There were still some of the villagers living at Hogwarts and Harry and the other professors still helped in their spare time to help rebuild buildings and get life in the village back to something that resembled normal. It was hard work, but at least it helped. Soon the last wizards and witches could move back into their homes or new houses.

Harry also shouldn't forget that he still had classes to teach, homework to grade and lessons to plan. The only positive thing that had come out of the attack on both Hogwarts and Hogsmeade was the newly won diligence of his students. Those, who he had convinced with his speech, and also others, who were still a bit wary around him, but still willing to learn, had improved drastically over the last few weeks. The fact that even Hogwarts wasn't completely safe must have hit them hard. Be it first years or seventh years, Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs, they all showed the strive to become better after they had seen what being at war meant, even though it had only been a small glimpse.

At last Harry had to deal with the almost daily quarrels between Ron and Hermione. The reason for those fights was rather obvious – Hermione's admirer, of whom she still didn't want to divulge the name. Every time, when Ron saw Hermione wearing the necklace, he couldn't refrain from making a scathing remark, provoking Hermione until Harry had to escape to his room and place a silencing charm around it to keep the yelling out.

He tried to stay out of it, he really did, but their behaviour was so extremely tiring. Even Draco was staying out of their way a lot more often than he usually did, hiding away in his office, his chambers or wherever he usually spent his spare time. Harry was sick of the shouting, so sick of Ron's jealousy. This was his friend's biggest problem. His jealousy had destroyed what he had with Hermione, even almost the friendship of the three of them, and it was still destroying so much. Sometimes Harry just wanted to snap at him to get over it, but it wasn't his problem to deal with. This was between his friends.

Somehow, Harry thought, it would all be much easier for them, if Hermione hadn't ever gotten the roses, never gotten the necklace and never met her admirer. Ron wouldn't be jealous and Harry wouldn't be drawn into it. But how could he so selfishly wish this, when he noticed how happy Hermione was? Ever since the Halloween Ball, there was usually a smile tugging at her lips. She appeared to be so carefree, her eyes were sparkling and she was in such a good mood all the time that it was almost scary. The only thing that still managed to dampen her mood were the constant fights with Ron.

Whoever this bloke was, he was helping Hermione through a hard time in a way which neither he nor Ron were able to. They were just her best friends, but the admirer truly seemed to be someone special. Seeing a genuine smile on his friend's face meant so much more to him than caring who the bloke was or when and where they were secretly meeting, so as long as he continued making her happy, he wouldn't give Hermione a hard time.

"Harry, mate, you still in there?"

"Wha—?" Harry was startled out of his thoughts and jolted back to the present, when Ron nudged him rather ungently. Ron, Hermione and Draco, as well as some other teachers and students were looking at him strangely and Harry realized that he must have been longer lost in his thoughts than he had thought. His eyes rested on his grey sprinkled breakfast and with a nervous chuckle ran his right hand through his hair. "So, uh, dinner at Godric's Hollow tonight, huh?"

* * *

"Damn it!" Harry cursed, as he paced up and down in their common room. "Where is she?" He looked at the watch around his wrist and swore again. Their portkey to Godric's Hollow was going to leave in fifteen minutes and Hermione still wasn't back from wherever she had disappeared to directly after the Quidditch match – which Ravenclaw had won 210 to 170. Even though she had sounded a bit annoyed, when they had asked, where she was heading, she had told them not to worry and that she would be back in time. But they had only thirteen minutes left and they still had to go to Dumbledore's office.

"Most likely hidden somewhere, snogging, or worse even, shagging her secret admirer," Ron spat.

Harry stopped briefly and just rolled his eyes at him, but kept quiet. He would give them a few more days and then he feared that he needed to step in, for their friendship's sake. They needed to stick together, in their current situation more than ever, and somehow he needed to make Ron see this.

Just as Harry wanted to resume his pacing, the portrait to their common room swung open and Hermione hurried inside. "I'm sorry," she said, slightly out of breath. A few strands of hair had fallen out of the bun at the base of her neck and her face was a bit flushed. Harry wondered silently, if Ron had been right with his assumption.

Suddenly, Hermione shoved a small parcel into his hands, which was wrapped in colourful decorated wrapping paper. "Uh, thanks, 'Mione," he said stunned.

Harry didn't know what he had done wrong this time, when Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "This is not for you. It's for your mother."

"But… why?"

"Honestly Harry," she replied, sounding slightly testy, as she pulled her hair-band out of her brown hair. "You owe her an apology and seeing as I _knew_ that you wouldn't think of buying her a small gift, I went to Hogsmeade this afternoon and bought this."

Finally understanding the purpose of this small parcel in his hands, Harry heaved an obvious sigh of relief and flashed Hermione a grateful smile. "Thank you, 'Mione. You're a lifesaver."

"Be glad that I thought of this, Harry Potter," Hermione scolded him, while she was trying and failing to redo the bun with all strands safely tucked in the hair tie. "You wouldn't want to make Lily angrier than she already is. Oh, this isn't working!" With a huff, she pulled the hair-band out again and started anew.

Harry immediately put the parcel on the backrest of the couch and hurried over to her. "Wait, let me help you," he said softly, as he took the band out of her hand and gently pulled her hair back before he began to work. "What did you get her?"

"_Honeydukes Finest_," Hermione answered, wincing a bit, when Harry pulled a bit more forcefully at a few strands. "Lily once told me that she loves this collection of sweets."

"Well, thank you again," Harry said sincerely and, after having wrapped the hair-band one last time around the bun, finally let go of her hair. He examined his handiwork and eventually nodded satisfied. "Alright, there you go."

Hermione's right hand wandered to the bun in her neck and touched it to make sure that all was as it should be. When she noticed that Harry had indeed managed what she had been desperately trying to do, she turned around with surprise written all over her face. "How?"

Harry simply shrugged, but couldn't keep the grin from his face. "You seem to forget that you're not the only one who has to tame nearly untameable hair. However, we really should hurry now. We've got barely six minutes to get to Albus."

A look of panic flitted over her face and Harry had to chuckle, as she was once again running to the portrait hole, while he was calmly taking the present for his mother, and Ron got up from his chair just as coolly. His best male friend still had a slightly suspicious look on his face, as he looked at Hermione, but Harry ignored it, as he followed her.

It must have been in record time that they reached the office, because they still had two minutes to spare. The three of them fought to catch their breath and Harry noticed, when he looked at the Headmaster, the at the moment quite infuriating twinkle in his eyes.

"Only three of you?" Dumbledore asked curiously.

"Yeah," Harry answered with a grin tugging at his lips. "I believe Draco's exact words were '_The day that I have dinner with the Potters will be the day that I kiss a Mudblood.'" _Fortunately they knew that, even though Draco could still be a right git, he didn't use this expression as an insult anymore. He mostly only used it to rile Ron – with success – while Hermione wasn't bothered by it anymore, actually only seeing it as a challenge to best Draco in one of their infamous verbal sparring matches. Those arguments were just as heated as the ones between Ron and Hermione and yet, Harry somehow felt that they were different. As mean as it sounded, he thought that Hermione and Draco fought on a different intellectual level, a higher and more challenging one. "Well," Harry continued with a shrug, signalling to the Dumbledore that they weren't bothered by the use of _Mudblood, _"I guess that means never."

"Of course," the Headmaster agreed; that bloody twinkle in his eyes had intensified about tenfold and Harry could have sworn that Dumbledore's eyes had fleetingly left him and wandered to his left. Harry turned his head a bit, but it was only Hermione, who was standing there and she didn't seem to have noticed anything. He shook his head inwardly. Must have been his imagination. Or maybe Dumbledore had only looked at her, because she was the only true Muggle-born among them. Whatever, maybe he should talk to his father about a suitable prank for Dumbledore to get back at him for this amused twinkle.

Suddenly, Ron cleared his throat. "Albus, the portkey?"

"Now, now, Ronald… No need to rush. You still have twenty seconds. Well, here it is."

The three friends quickly took a hold on the old yellow rubber duck and just seconds later Harry felt the by now familiar, but still quite uncomfortable tug behind his navel and they were whisked away.

-

When they arrived, Harry was glad that most of the time Ron and Hermione remembered his little weakness concerning portkeys and supported him so that the didn't land flat on his behind. He muttered a quick thanks and then looked up, absentmindedly straightening his robes and checking that he hadn't crushed the present for his mother. Alright, the paper was a bit wrinkled, but otherwise it was still okay.

"Not bad," Ron suddenly said, causing Harry to turn around.

He swallowed hard. The house in front of him was nothing like he remembered it – the last and only time Harry had been there, it had been damaged almost beyond repair. This wasn't the ruin he had seen then, but a warm looking home of a happy family. Surrounding the front yard was a brown wooden fence and the path leading up to the front door was paved with dark red stones. In the darkness, with just the pale light of the street lantern, he couldn't see much of the garden, but he thought that it had to be wonderful. The house itself was actually quite normal looking, with red stones and brown window frames, not like the Burrow, but still as inviting.

This was supposed to be his home.

"Harry, come on," Hermione urged him. "Or else we're really going to be late."

Harry took a step forward and hesitatingly opened the gate, before he stepped onto the path in the front yard. His throat began to feel dry, as he stepped up to the front door. What would await him behind this door? He couldn't remember how it had looked like, when he had still been a baby.

Apparently sensing his unease, Hermione grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, before releasing it again. "We're right behind you," she mumbled, obviously wanting to encourage him to do this last step.

Harry took one more deep breath and raised his shaking hand to ring the doorbell. It was opened not even ten seconds later by his mother. Once again swallowing nervously, Harry offered her an embarrassed smile, which, to his great relief, Lily returned.

"Ah, there you are," she greeted them and stepped aside. "Come on in."

"Thanks," Harry said, as he was about to walk past her, but a pointed cough from Hermione let him turn around. Her eyes were narrowed as she looked at him. Harry was confused for a moment, until he suddenly remembered the parcel in his hand. His cheeks were tinted slightly red, as he offered his mother the gift. "That's for you…"

Lily was still smiling, as she took the parcel, but instead of looking at Harry, she looked at Hermione, as she said, "Thank you, Hermione. That's really nice." Harry's blush deepened, but at least Hermione also had the decency to look a bit flustered. The young man really should have known that his mother wouldn't believe that he had been that thoughtful, which was confirmed when Lily only muttered, "Just like his father…"

Harry lowered his gaze to the ground, suddenly feeling like an eleven year old, and mumbled, "I'm sorry… I shouldn't have forgotten your invitation…"

Dismissing his apology with a wave of her hand, Lily grinned at him. "I know, you mentioned all that in your letter and your apology is accepted. Just, don't let it happen again, okay?"

"I'll try."

With a sigh, Lily shrugged. "Well, I guess this is all I could expect from you, huh? Whatever… Now, what are we still standing here? Come inside… Harry, could you show your friends to the sitting room, please?"

Harry just stood there, frozen to the spot. Of course! How could he have forgotten this? His parents believed that he knew this house, that he had grown up in it. He barely noticed that his friends stepped inside and that the door was closed behind them. Lily was already giving him a strange look, so he needed a plausible explanation – quickly! "Uhm…"

"Are you alright, Harry?" his mother asked, sounding concerned.

"Yeah," he said, hoping that his parents would buy this story. "It's just… I can't remember this house. You moved… to the other side of the town, when I was still little." And this wasn't even a complete lie. The cemetery _was_ on the other side of town and his parents _had_ _moved_ there, when he had been one year old.

"Really?" she asked surprised. "Well, there are some pretty houses, without doubt. But I never thought that we would move there, at least not that soon after having settled down here…" Harry noticed that she was looking at him closely and resisted the urge to flinch under her scrutinizing gaze. "Ah, well, I guess it doesn't matter right now. The sitting room is down this hallway, second door to the left. James should be there, waiting for another guest."

"Another guest?" Harry asked confused, but didn't receive an answer, as his mother had already disappeared through another door. With a shrug, he exchanged a look with his friends and together they walked along the hallway and through the door into the sitting room, just in time as the fire in the large fireplace turned green and someone stepped through it, much more gracefully than Harry would ever be able to.

A smile appeared on Harry's face, as the man straightened and he recognized the face of the young Remus Lupin. The two of them had never had the chance to finish their conversation from Halloween and Harry had somehow feared his reaction to the things that had been revealed then as well.

Harry watched the interaction between the two Marauders with a somewhat sorrowful smile on his face, as James greeted his old friend with a strong handshake and a brotherly hug. It saddened him to know that in his time, Remus was the only surviving Marauder.

"Splendid," James suddenly exclaimed, after he had finally noticed, with the help of a grinning Remus Lupin, that Harry and his friends were standing in the entrance to the sitting room. "Good to see you again, Harry, alive, if I may say so…" Then, lowering his voice and looking suspiciously, he added, "I'm sorry about the Howler."

Harry only chuckled. "It's alright. It was my fault, after all. I'm sorry that I forgot, dad…" With a smirk on his face, Harry heard the sharp intake of breath behind him. He hadn't told Ron and Hermione yet that Remus knew the truth. Their eyes met and it was all Harry could do to not burst out laughing, when he noticed the mischievous gleam in Remus' eyes – a gleam that explained, just how Remus had become one of the most infamous pranksters in Hogwarts' history. "Hullo Remus."

"Hello Harry," Remus replied seriously, though Harry could tell that the seriousness was obviously faked. "Hermione, Ronald, it's good to see you two as well. But, where's your other friend?"

"He didn't feel like coming along," Harry explained, still not needing to turn around to know that his friends were still quite shocked. "I guess that he's also still a bit angry at Hermione for once again winning a bet they had placed on the outcome of the Quidditch match today, so he wouldn't have been good company anyway."

Suddenly, James cleared his throat with a sly grin, getting their attention. "Harry, I believe Ron and Hermione will be ready to strangle you, if you keep up this act, so why don't you explain already, why you've called me 'Dad' in front of Remus?"

"Alright," he replied grinning. Turning to his friends, he simply said, "Remus figured it out, shortly after we arrived actually, but hadn't had the chance to prove his theory until Halloween. But, I don't know, when he told you that he knows…" he trailed off, now looking at James.

"Actually," Lily now said from the doorway, "Remus told us only a couple of days ago and I'm sure you can imagine that we've also been quite surprised…"

"But we should have known that Moony would figure it out eventually. After all, you and I, Harry, we could pass for twins," James continued, still grinning. "Well, Lils, what are you doing here? Is dinner served? I'm starving!"

"Five more minutes," she answered and Harry knew that, if Lily were _his_ wife – a thought that he didn't even want to entertain -, he would think that the tone of her voice was too sweet for his liking. "But you could show our guests to the dining room and then come to the kitchen to help me."

Harry smirked, as he realized that he had been right, when James winced before leading them through the hallway to the dining room. The table was already set. Beautiful china was standing on a white tablecloth and gently burning candles were standing in the middle of the table. Harry sat down at the table with Ron and Hermione each at one side, when Remus sat down on one of the chairs across of them. His gaze wandered around the room and he smiled. He would have loved to grow up in this house.

Harry's eyes landed on a small figurine of a ballerina standing on the windowsill and suddenly his eyes widened, as something that could only be a memory shot through his mind. "I blew that one up…"

A chuckle from the door tore him out of his thoughts, as Lily and James came through the door, both carrying some bowls and putting them on the table. "Not yet," Lily said with a grin. "But thanks for the warning."

Looking back to the figurine, Harry also allowed a grin to appear on his face. He didn't remember much from his life with his parents, mostly the typical Dementor induced memories or the flash of green light, which weren't all that pleasant, but to suddenly remember something as trivial as this made him happy. Maybe, maybe he would remember even more the longer he and the others stayed in this time.

After two more trips to the kitchen, the table was laden with a feast that could easily rival any feast at Hogwarts. His mother had truly outdone herself, Harry thought, as he piled heaps of roast pork and roast beef, chicken, potatoes, vegetables and other tasty food on the plate. For pudding, Lily had even prepared homemade vanilla ice-cream, a flavour Harry vaguely recognized from having stolen a spoonful from Aunt Petunia, when he had been younger. The fact that he had been caught and locked in his cupboard for two weeks as punishment was skilfully ignored on Harry's part. This was a life he had left behind a long time ago.

All of them talked animatedly during dinner. Harry noticed happily that Ron and his father were discussing their favourite topic – Quidditch of course – to which Harry now and then threw in his two pennies worth, while Hermione, Remus and his mother talked about their time travel, which also proved to be very interesting, seeing as all of them seemed to have done some research by themselves and had some theories, though none of them could be proven.

Even after everyone was full, they remained seated and ignored the dirty dishes for now. It was fascinating to watch this and yet it hurt him to watch them getting on like this, knowing that in less than one year his parents would be dead and Remus all alone, because he believed one of his other friends to be dead and the other to be a traitor, serving his sentence in Azkaban. They didn't know of their fates and Harry prayed that there was something he could do to change what was going to happen. If only Dumbledore's theory were correct that they had already created a different timeline so that his would be untouched and he could do everything in his power to change this one for the better…

"Are you alright, Harry?" he suddenly heard his mother's worried voice asking. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Harry could only nod and hope that his intended reassuring smile was convincing. Fortunately he was spared any more inquiring questions, because they suddenly heard a cry coming from upstairs. With a sigh, Lily rose from her chair. "Excuse me, please. I'll be back in a minute…"

Along with her, James also got up and started to clear the table. He started to pile the plates, as Harry suddenly sprung up and helped him. James gave him a weird look, but didn't stop him, for which Harry was grateful. He needed something to occupy himself with, even if this was just something as mundane as bringing the dishes into the kitchen. Following James into the kitchen, Harry noticed the different photographs, both wizarding and muggle, of his family, their friends and even his baby-self at the wall. There were so many pictures that he didn't know, seeing as he only possessed the one photo album that Hagrid had given him at the end of his first year at Hogwarts.

Harry and his father worked silently alongside in the kitchen for a few minutes, both of them lost in their thoughts, until Harry turned around startled, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. His father was looking at him, his hazel eyes for the first time that night being completely serious. "Harry," he said quietly, while throwing a quick glance at the door. "Before dinner, Lily told me something strange. She said you told her that, in your time, we moved to the other side of Godric's Hollow. But I don't understand this. Why should we do this? We are perfectly happy in this house."

Harry sighed and turned his head away, avoiding his father's eyes. "It's… I can't… I'm sorry…"

"Please Harry," James almost pleaded. "I don't think Lily will want to know, but I do. What is it? A Death Eater attack or something even worse?" Feeling his father stiffen at the lack of response he gave him, Harry looked up again and suddenly he noticed that his father's eyes wandered to his forehead. "Voldemort…" James mumbled, musing aloud. "When he gave you that accursed scar… He came to this house, but why would he seek you out?"

Harry looked at him startled, but when he then saw the shocked expression on James' face, he knew that he had just confirmed something of which James hadn't even been aware that he had said it.

"He was after you… He didn't attack you, because he was after us or because it was a coincident. No, he sought you out. Harry, why?"

"Are you boys okay in there?" Lily asked, as she stopped in the doorframe to the kitchen, holding a wide-awake baby Harry in her arms. Harry looked at the small boy, marvelling at the innocence in his eyes. He couldn't remember, when he had been this innocent. It was too long ago.

"Of course," James answered grinning. "Harry and I, we are just going to wash the last dishes. You and little Harry, you should go ahead to our guests…"

If his mother didn't believe them, she didn't show it, because she just gave them a grateful smile, before she returned to the dining room. Soon they heard some shuffling and Harry guessed that they were going to the sitting room, because it was more comfortable there.

First when they were sure that no one would listen to them, they, or rather James, picked up the conversation once again. "Why, Harry? Why would Voldemort want to kill you? It couldn't just be to hurt us, because he knows that we'd rather die first before we let him harm you…"

"I'm sorry," Harry only mumbled, shaking his head. "Dumbledore… He doesn't want you to know, yet. But, you already figured it out, so I can tell you one thing. Yes, Voldemort was after me, but I can't tell you when it will happen. It could change too much…"

Picking up another wet plate, Harry began to dry it, before placing it next to him on the counter and following the same procedure with the following dishes. Eventually, after having looked at him for a few long seconds, James also resumed his work. However, when all used dishes were clean and standing in their cupboards, Harry once again felt James' eyes on him.

"Will you tell me, if Albus says that your actions in this time will have no effects on yours?"

Harry's eyes met his and he nodded. "I will…"

-

For the next few hours Harry tried as good as possible to take an active part in the conversations around him, though he caught himself repeatedly, when he once again got lost in his thoughts. However, he noticed that his father seemed to have similar problems that not even a heated match of wizarding chess between Ron and Remus could completely disperse. Ron beat Remus in the end, though it had been a close call. Harry knew that Ron had truly enjoyed this challenge, seeing as neither he nor Hermione were able to defeat him.

Still, it was too soon for their taste that Harry, Hermione and Ron had to return to Hogwarts. Their return portkey had been set to depart at midnight and it was only a few minutes until it would be activated again. They all said goodbye to each other and Harry promised that he wouldn't forget to write this time. He had learned his lesson, after all.

The three time travellers were standing in the front yard, all of them holding onto the rubber duck and waiting for the jerk behind their navels. Harry once again looked back to the door, where his parents and Remus were standing and, locking eyes with his father, nodded at him once, before they disappeared.

During his conversation with James, Harry's resolve to make this time a better place, if Dumbledore's theory about the different timelines was correct, had only strengthened. He would do everything in his power to give his other self, his parents and their friends a better future.


	22. Past Mistakes

**A/N: I'm sooooo sorry, guys! I blame university for this late update. And of course my other stories that also need to be written. I hope you'll still read this story, even though my updates are really slow at the moment, though I would understand, if you didn't. However, I want to thank all of you who have reviewed and expressed the wish to read the next chapter. Actually, this chapter's title should have been "Hermione's Secret", but somehow, while writing, this chapter took a completely different turn than what I had actually planned for it. However, it doesn't influence the general plan I have for this story – I simply added a bit of information.**

**Whatever, I hope you forgive me for this incredibly long wait!**

**

* * *

Chapter 22: Past Mistakes**

Snow was falling slowly to the ground, renewing the thick layer that the students of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had already discovered that morning, after they had taken a look out of the windows of their dorms. Their excited chatter had rung through the Great Hall that morning and at lunch, as the students had been discussing their plans for the late afternoon, when they were free of any classes. The term _snowball fight_ had fallen more than once and this was the reason, why Harry was carefully walking across the school grounds with the hood of his cloak pulled over his head, weaving in and out between battling groups and dodging more snowballs than he cared to count.

He was on his way to Hagrid's hut, after having promised the half giant to come over to afternoon tea this morning, when he had met him in the halls. They hadn't talked for quite a long time and seeing as all of his friends were otherwise busy, Harry had gratefully accepted the invitation. Though he was not looking forward to Hagrid's rock cake.

"So, how's life treatin' yeh here at Hogwarts?" Hagrid asked, while he was serving Harry a huge cup of steaming tea. Somehow, some of the students had dared to prank him by ambushing him and making him the target of a whole mountain of snowballs. The culprits had escaped undetected, but somehow this didn't bother Harry as much as it should. If he had been Snape, of course, the students would have served detention with Filch for the next few months. But fortunately, Snape wasn't teaching at Hogwarts – at least not yet.

Taking a sip from the hot liquid in the cup, Harry relished in the comforting warmth that spread through his body. His cloak was hung up to dry in front of Hagrid's fireplace – Harry always thought that his drying spells caused his clothes to become somewhat stiff - and he had also taken off his drenched robe, leaving him just sitting in his black shirt and his black jeans. "It's alright. I just never thought that teaching a bunch of kids could be this time consuming." A low chuckle escaped his lips. "I really should have given my old professors a bit more credit… However, I'm glad the first term will be over soon. I really do need some holidays."

Hagrid laughed and Harry couldn't keep the grin from his face. "Don' let Hermione hear yeh say that. I believe she don't wan' the term to en'."

"'Mione visited you?" Harry asked, as he took the cup with both hands and raised it to his lips. This tea really warmed him up from the inside, much better than the fire in the fireplace did. He silently wondered, if Hagrid had maybe put some of old Ogden's good stuff into the teapot.

"Yeah, she did. Yeh should've heard the argument between her an'—" Suddenly, Hagrid paused, his eyes wide.

Harry blinked confused, wondering why Hagrid had stopped in mid-sentence, but then it hit him and he knew what his big friend had almost told him. Almost spitting out the tea and dropping the cup, he sputtered, "You- you know who Hermione's boyfriend is?"

The half giant immediately turned his gaze away, muttering under his breath something like, "Shouldn't've said anythin'… Should've jus'…"

Harry couldn't believe it. Here he was, after almost six weeks, still not knowing the identity of Hermione's secret admirer, whereas Hagrid already seemed to have known for at least a few days. He couldn't help feeling hurt after this revelation – after all, Hermione was one of his best friends, and Hagrid, though a good friend in their own time, was just an acquaintance in this one. They didn't have this ten-year old friendship they had in their own time. So why would Hermione bring her mysterious boyfriend along to visit Hagrid?

"Yeh're angry wit' me now, aren' yeh?"

Looking up startled after having been torn out of his musings, Harry noticed that Hagrid was just about to pull his towel-sized handkerchief out of his pockets to blow his nose. Being immediately regretful, he tried his best to comfort the sentimental half-giant. "It's okay, Hagrid. You just surprised me, that's all. It's not your fault."

"B-but I told yeh…"

"No, you didn't." And Harry knew that he was right. Hagrid really hadn't told him. "You just said that Hermione was here with… someone. It was me, who concluded that it must have been her boyfriend. So, look at me, Hagrid." The groundskeeper looked at Harry with watery beady eyes. "This. Is. Not. Your. Fault."

"But…"

"Not. Your. Fault." Harry repeated one more time and was relieved, when Hagrid eventually nodded and blew his nose with a loud and sniffy noise. Once the handkerchief was again stowed away in its pocket, the young wizard was glad to see that Hagrid had regained his composure. Shaking his head slightly, he once again took a sip of the tea. "You don't have anything stronger than this, do you?" he asked with a sheepish grin on his face, motioning with his head to the liquid in the gigantic cup.

A booming laugh escaped Hagrid's lips and he got up to get a half-full bottle of a brown liquid from one of the cupboards above the fireplace. The fleeting thought that something as alcoholic as Firewhiskey shouldn't be stored so close to fire crossed Harry's mind, but he quickly shook it off. He really shouldn't be surprised – it was Hagrid, after all.

Once there was a glass filled with Firewhisky standing next to the cup of tea on the table, Harry raised his glass and took a sip, relishing the burning sensation in his throat in contrast to the icy cold outside. This was really much better than tea – even if it was a bit spiked. After he had drained the first glass completely, Harry began to feel slightly calmer, which was a good thing, considering the inner turmoil he had gone through only a few minutes ago. "You know, the thing is, I don't even know _why_ 'Mione is keeping it from us."

"She's jus' worried," Hagrid replied, regarding Harry with a sympathetic look on his face. "At leas' that's what she tol' me, when I ask'd her."

With a shake of his head, Harry sighed. "She shouldn't be worried. We've been friends for ten years and when she's happy, I'm happy for her. It's as simple as that." Another sigh followed and this time, Harry massaged his forehead. "But I can understand her, at least a bit. I don't think she's overly worried about my reaction, but she's worried about Ron's and that I might tell him, if she tells me."

Upon noticing the confused look on the other man's face, yet another sigh escaped his lips, along with his usual gesture of nervousness. His hand went through his dark messy hair, causing a few strands to loosen from the tight ribbon that kept it out of his face. Things were already too complicated to add this to the pile, but Harry knew that he owed Hagrid an explanation. It was going to be difficult, though, to not divulge any information that might betray that they were not from this time.

"The summer before our sixth year at school", he began hesitantly, careful to choose his words wisely, "Ron and Hermione got together, as a couple, I mean. The three of us have been friends since our first year, and when I look back on it now, I believe that they already had a crush on each other back then. However, it has taken them five years to finally figure it out. I don't know, who made the first step, most-likely Hermione. I just know that I visited Ron over the summer and noticed their strange behaviour, whenever I was in a room with the two of them."

Harry chuckled, as he remembered one particular funny scene. It was simply too cliché to not think it was funny. He had just come back to the Burrow after having brooded a whole afternoon about Sirius and the prophecy that Dumbledore had dropped on him at the end of the previous term, and about what he should do now, when he had stepped into Ron's room, as usual without knocking, and suddenly noticed that his two friends were standing in opposite corners of the room, apparently out of breath. He hadn't paid this much attention then, having still been too engaged in his own thoughts. First, when those weird events had somehow accumulated had he taken notice of them and begun to find out, what had been wrong.

"It took me a whole of three days to find out that they've been trying to hide the new development in their relationship from me. They… they didn't want to hurt me by showing me that something good has finally happened in their life, while my life had just taken another harsh blow." Ignoring Hagrid's questioning glance, Harry simply continued, "I've been happy for them, of course. And I told them this. I admit, it was weird at first, but I got used to it quickly. At least it diverted their attention a bit from me, for which I was glad at this time.

"However… It shouldn't last… When we returned to school in September, we found out that we had a new teacher for DADA and that we knew him. In our fourth year, a few exchange students came to our school. He was one of them, a seventh year at the time of the exchange program. Viktor, that's his name, and Hermione had been going out a few times back then and remained in contact after the year was over. Ron was incredibly jealous of their, well, _relationship_, and this jealousy returned full force, when Viktor was introduced as new teacher. Though Hermione had broken up with him sometime halfway through our fifth year, I think, they still got along very well.

"As I already said, Ron was extremely jealous, most-likely afraid that Hermione would leave him for _Vicky_, and this showed. Whereas they have always bickered a lot, their fights became more and more frequent and also worse as the school year progressed. Viktor and I, we were often caught in the middle of this. I, because both of them wanted me to take a side, and Viktor for obvious reasons. Both can be incredibly hot tempered and pigheaded, Ron even more so than 'Mione. Now that I think about it, it's always been Hermione and Ron, or me and Ron that argued about something or other. Once or twice our fights went even so far that we didn't speak to each other for several weeks.

"But the catalyst for the biggest fight ever between Ron and Hermione, a huge argument in the middle of our common room, was a gift Hermione had bought for Viktor for Christmas – a simple gesture of friendship on her part, but for Ron it was some kind of betrayal. It wasn't pretty to watch this," Harry told Hagrid gravely, staring down at the brown liquid in his glass. "Imagine your two best friends throwing accusations and insults at each other, words that run too deep to be simply taken back. At the moment when Ron called 'Mione a Mudblood, I just _knew_ that it was over. According to Ron, no one, simply _no one_, was allowed to call her this." Raising his head, he gazed directly into the half-giants beady eyes and said with a voice filled with regret, "Their relationship didn't survive this fight."

* * *

It was already dark, when Harry returned from the hut into the castle and he only met a few students on his way to the common room, who were most likely hurrying to the Great Hall for dinner. For a moment he pondered, if he should also have some dinner in the Great Hall, but eventually decided against it. Feeling the effects of the Firewhiskey in his blood, Harry thought it would be better, if he just returned to his quarters.

After he had told the portrait their password, he stepped into the deserted common room. Thinking that the others were probably still in the Great Hall, Harry took off his cloak and slumped down on the couch and stared into the blazing fire, lost in his thoughts – thoughts about a love that had been destroyed and about a friendship that had almost found its end at the same time.

-

For months after the fight that had ended the relationship of Ron and Hermione, the two of them hadn't exchanged one word with each other. It had been worse than after the Crookshank-Scabbers-incident and also worse than the first jealousy induced fight about Krum. Once again, Harry had been caught in the crossfire, so he had done the same thing as Viktor – he had pulled back from both of them and spent this time in the library to study and prepare for the inevitable encounter with Voldemort. The Slytherins had been more than happy with this development – the Golden Trio had been split.

Hermione and Ron had still been on non speaking terms, when the school year had ended and the three of them went their own ways – Ron to the Burrow, Hermione to her parents and Harry back to the Dursleys. Viktor Krum had, after having been the reason for so many problems, resigned his post as Defence against the Dark Arts teacher at the end of the year.

The summer at the Dursleys had definitely been different compared to the other summers Harry had had to spend there after the term at Hogwarts ended. For one, he had turned seventeen that summer, making him a legal adult in the wizarding world, and it also had to have been the quietest summer he had ever experienced. The Dursleys did their best to avoid him, as his aunt Petunia had told her husband and son that Harry would be able to do magic out of school once he was seventeen, so they didn't want to get on his wrong side out of fear that he might hex them, once he was allowed to.

However, that year Vernon Dursley hadn't even had a reason to shout at Harry at all. Harry had stayed up in his room most of the time, grabbing a snack when he wouldn't meet any of the Dursleys, or went out to the occasional Order meeting at Grimmauld Place. Add to that the surprising lack of arriving or parting owls and the inhabitants of Privet Drive Number four could pretend that their _freak nephew_ didn't even exist, which suited Harry just fine. Immersed in his studies, Harry ignored the two or three owls that _did_ arrive, including the birthday cards and presents from Ginny, Neville, Luna and Hagrid. He had just crammed them all along with his other stuff into his trunk and had apparated to Diagon Alley at midnight to live at the Leaky Cauldron until term started again, despite the repeated invitation from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who he still met at the Order meetings, to spend the rest of the holidays at the Burrow.

Even though Harry had felt lonelier than ever, he had thought that using Ron's and Hermione's fight to distance himself from them and everyone else had been the right thing to do. He had still felt sorry for the lost friendship, especially the one between Ron and Hermione, but as long as they were with him, they would always be a target. After having it repeated this over and over again in his head for the last few months, Harry had almost been ready to believe that they were better off without him and that, once he had broken all ties he had with them, they would think the same way about him.

However, he couldn't have been more wrong, as the trip to Hogwarts on September 1 on the Hogwarts Express had proven.

_He arrived at King's Cross at Platform Nine and Three Quarters one hour early, glad to see scarlet train already waiting, and disappeared in a compartment at the far back of the train, placing a notice-me-not-charm on himself. Soon the first students dashed or strolled through the barrier, meeting up with friends and exchanging stories of their summers. A wistful smile appeared on Harry's face, when a group of redheads, accompanied by Tonks and Lupin, stepped onto the platform. Mr. and especially Mrs. Weasley appeared to be looking for him, obviously expecting him to meet them. Even Ron and Ginny let their eyes travel over the quickly growing crowd, and Harry's heart suddenly started to beat faster, when Ginny stopped directly next to the window of the compartment in which he was sitting, and seemed to be staring directly at him, directly into his eyes for two incredibly long seconds, until she turned her attention back to her family to say goodbye._

_Only a few minutes after Ron and Ginny had boarded the train, Harry saw Hermione, who was alone and got on the train without further ado. Something had happened that had not happened since their first year – the Golden Trio was on the Hogwarts Express but in three different compartments._

_During the first hour of the trip, his compartment door was opened a few times, but closed quickly again, courtesy of the notice-me-not-charm. It wasn't until one or two in the afternoon, when the door was once again opened, but this time it remained open. Raising his head, Harry found himself staring into a pair of blazing brown eyes. Ginny Weasley was standing in the doorway, brandishing her wand and saying, "Finite Incantatem!" At once Harry felt a strange sensation in his body and knew immediately that she could see him as clearly as he saw her._

_None of them said anything at first and Harry just stared stoically at her, hoping that she would get the message and leave him be. But he really should have known better, because Ginny finally resolutely walked up to him and used the element of surprise to grab his arm and pull him to his feet. "Come. Follow me," she ordered and gave him a hard look, which told him that he had no other choice. _

_Swallowing hard, Harry let himself be led out of his compartment, the whole time completely aware of the tight grip she had on his arm. He felt a sudden warmth rise in his cheeks and he lowered his gaze to the ground. What was wrong with him?_

_After they had walked through two cars, Ginny stopped so abruptly in front of a compartment that Harry almost walked into her. She let go of him and pushed the door open, before stepping inside with her arms crossed over her chest. Looking over her head, Harry saw the familiar brown and slightly bushy hair of his once best female friend. She was also alone in her compartment. "Hermione," Ginny said, finally getting the other girl's attention._

"_Ginny," Hermione replied surprised, closing the book that was lying on her lap. "Hi… Oh, hello Harry…" she trailed off, when she spotted the dark haired teenager in the corridor. However, he only nodded at her._

"_You're not busy, are you?" Ginny asked her sweetly, but didn't wait for an answer, as she continued in the same tone that she had already used on Harry, "Good. Come with us."_

_Trusting the stunned girl to follow them, Ginny turned on the spot and walked further down the corridor into another car. Harry und Hermione exchanged a confused look, before they eventually followed the redhead. When they finally caught up with her, she was already standing in front of another compartment and obviously arguing with one of its occupants._

"_I don't care, if you're in the middle of a game of Exploding Snap! This is more important!" they heard her yell. She glanced at him and Hermione with a smirk on her face and then turned her full attention back to the one she was fighting with. "I'm sorry Neville, but you, Dean and Seamus have to look for another compartment. It's all for the greater good, believe me."_

_Harry narrowed his eyes at Ginny, having a bad feeling about this. Hermione seemed to be thinking along the same lines, as she also had a very suspicious look on her face. After a few seconds and a few more arguments thrown back and forth, Ginny stepped back with a smug grin on her face to allow Seamus, Dean and a sheepish looking Neville to walk past her._

"_And now," the red-haired girl said to them strictly, "go in there and sit down." Still not daring to disobey her orders, Harry sighed quietly and slipped into the compartment, not all that surprised to see Ron sitting there at the window, sulking. He heard the gasp behind him and knew that Hermione had also spotted him. Nonetheless, she seemed to gather all of her Gryffindor courage and stepped into the compartment behind him. They both sat down on the seats opposite of Ron and watched Ginny, as she placed a locking charm on the door and a silencing charm around the compartment, before joining them on Ron's side. "Alright, now you're going to talk."_

_A heavy silence settled over the compartment, a silence so thick that Harry wondered for a split second, if Ginny hadn't messed up the silencing charm, placing it on them rather than on the compartment. He glanced at Hermione out of the corners of his eyes, noticing that she was looking down at her hands, which she had clasped tightly in her lap, and then over to Ron, who was still resolutely staring out of the window, ignoring all of them. It was obvious that none of them wanted to be there and yet Harry couldn't suppress this nagging feeling that this meeting was long overdue._

For the first few minutes no one had said anything, no one had wanted to make the first step, until Ginny had suddenly jumped up and given each of them a piece of her mind. Truly each of them. Harry had been glad that Ginny had performed the silencing charm before beginning her tirade, because he had been sure that the whole student body would have gathered in front of their compartment to find out what was going on there, if she hadn't done this. His ears had been ringing for hours afterwards.

Ginny Weasley was truly the daughter of her mother and had shown this during her long and accusing speech about how they had messed up. Neither Harry, Ron nor Hermione had gotten off lightly. Ginny had pointed out each and every mistake they had made, while reminding them the whole time of the friendship they had once shared, and had told them off for how they had acted – Ron for his jealousy, Hermione for her stubbornness and Harry for using their conflict to distance himself from them.

Harry had been the last one being on the receiving end of her anger, trying to keep the mask of indifference on his face, though he was already wondering, if what he had done had been the right thing to do. Ron and Hermione had already admitted defeat to Ginny and had their heads hanging low in embarrassment. This feeling only intensified, when Ginny seemed to find exactly the right words to get to him, just as she had already managed with Ron and Hermione.

When Ginny had finally been finished with him, the mask had been gone, replaced by an insecure look, as he had glanced up at her. He had been surprised to see a small smile on her face, but she had obviously been pleased with her work. After having given him an encouraging nod, as if saying that it was now up to them, she had turned around, undoing the locking charm in the process, and left the compartment.

The silence she had left in her wake had been thick and uncomfortable, as they still had had no idea what to say. It had taken a few more minutes, until Ron had suddenly cleared his throat and said, "So, uhm… Chocolate Frog, anyone? It's my treat…" He had stuck his hand deep in his pocket and fished out some Sickles and Knuts, counting them in his hand to make sure that he had enough, before he had looked up at Harry and Hermione with an expectant look on his face.

Much to Harry's surprise, Hermione had beaten him to answer Ron. She had given her ex-boyfriend a soft and grateful smile and said, "That would be nice, thank you, Ron." Harry hadn't been able to suppress a small smile at this. Hermione might not have forgotten what Ron had said and done to her, but she had forgiven him for this.

"What about you, Harry?" Ron had asked him uncertainly, though his spirits had lifted a bit after Hermione's positive reaction to his offer.

Harry had met his gaze and had eventually nodded. "Yeah, thanks… mate…"

Harry still didn't know how it had happened, but suddenly, the moment Ron had gotten up to look for the witch with the tea trolley, both of them had found themselves in an almost bone-breaking group hug with a laughing and crying Hermione. Harry and Ron, both a few inches taller then her, had only exchanged a quick grin.

The first step had been done. It had still taken almost a half year to rebuild the friendship all three of them had helped to destroy, but in the end they were closer than ever before, though it had been obvious from the beginning of this long and strenuous process that Ron and Hermione would never be more than friends again.

Of course news had the tendency to travel fast at Hogwarts, so by the beginning of the Welcoming Feast everyone had known that the Golden Trio had been reunited. The whole Gryffindor table had even applauded, as they all three together had entered the Great Hall.

_Later that night, Harry was sitting in front of the fire in the common room, thinking about how unexpected this day had turned out. Everyone else was already up in the dorms – or in Hermione's case in the chambers of Headgirl and Headboy – and Harry just needed some time alone. He didn't notice the soft footsteps coming down the stairs from the girls' dormitories, so he was a bit surprised to see Ginny standing at the foot of the stairs, when she quietly cleared her throat to get his attention._

"_Hey…" he simply said. He wouldn't have been able to say more anyway, seeing as suddenly a big lump had appeared in his throat, when he had seen that she had simply been wearing a pair of muggle shorts and a rather tight T-shirt. The shadows of the dying fire were playing on her face and something began to move in his chest, something he had never felt there before. Swallowing hard to get rid of the lump, he got up from the sofa. "Why are you still up?"_

_Shrugging, she replied, "Couldn't sleep. You?"_

"_The same," Harry answered with a grin, but suddenly became serious. "Ginny… What you did today… It was…"_

"_Yeah?"_

_There was once again this hard look in her eyes, challenging him – to do what, he didn't know… Maybe she thought that he was angry about what she had done, about the way she had interfered. But maybe it was something else entirely. Whatever it was, the thing in Harry's chest responded and without knowing what he was doing, or why he was doing it, he crossed the distance between them and just kissed her, forgetting everything around him._

_He knew his cheeks were flushed, when he ended the kiss, but he didn't care. Ginny's lips were parted slightly, as if inviting him to end what he had started, but Harry knew better than to give in to those urges. Instead, he simply smiled down at her and whispered, "Thank you…"_

_He took a step back, reluctantly letting go of her. His eyes searched hers, fully expecting to see the anger and the hurt that he had inflicted upon her by doing this, by pulling away, but what he saw surprised him yet again. Yes, there was regret, yes, there was pain, however, there was also understanding. She understood that, as long as there was a war waging outside these walls, this kiss had been a one time thing._

_Gently tugging a stray stand of hair behind her ear, Harry took in her face, berating himself for not having noticed her earlier, when he hadn't carried yet the weight of the wizarding world on his shoulders. But maybe, maybe when this was over, and if he was still alive, he might get another chance with her. Turning around without another word, he walked back to the stairs that led to the boys' dormitories, only stopping briefly, when Ginny called his name. He looked back over his shoulder to see her smile._

"_You're welcome."_

-

Harry slowly woke up, when he heard the portrait open and someone come inside. He blearily blinked a few times, noticing that the fire was almost burnt down, but didn't move yet. He wondered how late it was, but just as he wanted to sit up and make his presence known to whoever had just arrived, he heard Hermione whisper, "We're alone…"

Alone? Of course, the couch in front of the fireplace was so large that she couldn't see him. But she didn't seem to be alone. Suddenly his eyes widened and he quickly closed them again, feigning sleep, just in case they noticed him. Maybe this was his chance to find out, who her secret admire was.

However, staying still and pretending to sleep was harder than he had imagined, when noises reached his ears that he really didn't want to hear. At least not as long as he didn't know _who_ was kissing Hermione.

Still, he had no other choice but to be patient, as he had to wait for them either to stop kissing or to go into Hermione's room. At least they were moving, Harry thought relieved, when he heard the rustle of robes and steps on the floor, which were moving across the common room to the sleeping chambers.

All of sudden, Hermione gasped and Harry knew that he had been discovered. He tried to keep his breath even, hoping that they wouldn't see through his charade.

"Don't worry," a male voice whispered. Harry had to use all of his self-control to keep still, when he heard this voice. He knew it, but it was impossible, wasn't it? "He seems to be out like a light. Don't you think he would have reacted somehow, if he had heard us?"

Harry could almost feel Hermione's scrutinizing gaze on him for the next few seconds until he could hear her sigh. "You're right… I'm sorry…" she whispered, though she didn't seem to be completely convinced, if he could trust her voice. "I just wish it weren't so hard to tell them…"

Again the sound of a kiss, and Harry had to strain his ears to listen to what was said next, but he only caught the last few words. "It's late. Let's go to bed and talk about this tomorrow, okay?"

Hermione didn't answer, so Harry assumed she was nodding. A few seconds later, there were once again footsteps and then the sound of a door which was opened and closed. Silently, Harry counted until sixty and then opened his eyes again. He sat up and looked around, noticing relieved that he was alone in the common room.

A groan escaped his lips, as he buried his face in his hands. He didn't want to believe it, though he had just heard it with his own ears.

Hermione's secret admirer was Draco Malfoy.


	23. Norton Lewthwaite

**A/N: Thank you guys so much for all those nice reviews! I honestly thought that I wouldn't have a single reader left after having left you hanging for so long. I don't want to let you wait any longer, but I just wanted to tell you one more thing: Actually, I'm a R/Hr shipper, but I also read D/Hr and I decided that I wanted to try that pairing in this story. **

**And now on to the chapter! **

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**Chapter 23: Norton Lewthwaite**

It was less than two weeks until Christmas, which meant a lot of things. However not all of them were good, at least in Harry's opinion, as he was walking through Hogsmeade with his dark winter cloak pulled tightly around his body. It was the last Hogsmeade Weekend before Christmas, so it was only natural that the main street was packed with students, all of them doing their last minute purchases for the holiday.

Fortunately he was almost finished with his shopping and he breathed a sigh of relieved when the bookshop came into view, where he had ordered a book for Hermione, which he only needed to pick up. Emerging only a few minutes later with the book safely stored in his bag along with the other gifts he had bought, Harry took a look around. It was amazing that there was no sign of the attack on Halloween left.

Everything was rebuilt or replaced – thanks to magic it almost was as if the attack had never happened – and the students and inhabitants of the village appeared to be walking through the street as if there was not a war waging in the wizarding world. But when he looked closer, he could see that although they were strolling from shop to shop their bodies appeared to be a bit tense and that the students could always be found in small groups.

Even Harry caught himself a couple of times, when he looked over his shoulder or tensed up, whenever he thought that he had heard or seen something suspect. Even though everything appeared to be normal in Hogsmeade, the attack was still fresh on everyone's mind, seeing as it had only happened a few weeks ago. Harry was even surprised that Dumbledore still allowed those Hogsmeade Weekends, as they would pose the ideal target of Voldemort and his Death Eaters - a village filled with underage wizards and witches, unable to defend themselves against them. This would be a hard blow to the wizarding world, finding out that not even at school their children were safe.

All in all he was glad, when he could leave the village finally behind and was back in the castle, but before he had promised Ron that they would meet for a quick lunch at the Three Broomsticks and then head back to Hogwarts. The two of them had walked down to Hogsmeade after breakfast together but then parted ways to purchase their Christmas presents. They had asked Hermione and Draco, if they wanted to come along, but both of them had already different plans. After Harry's discovery a few days ago, he didn't even want to think about what kind of plans the two of them already had.

A quick look at his watch told Harry that he had twenty minutes to spare until he should meet with Ron, but since he didn't know where else he could go, he decided that he might as well go to the Three Broomsticks and save them a table. Navigating through the students, careful not to jostle too many of them, which was nearly impossible in this crowd, he made his way towards the pub. Once inside, he had hoped to escape the crowds outside, but the place was packed. A few of the students greeted him, as he was walking to a table in the back and dropped his purchases on the ground next to him, before he shrugged off his cloak and sat down. It was warm inside, so Harry rolled up the sleeves of his black turtleneck.

Madam Rosmerta, in this time still a woman of about thirty years and even more beautiful than in his time, came to him shortly after, but Harry simply ordered a butterbeer and told her that he was still waiting for someone. He didn't need to wait long, as Ron stepped into the Three Broomstick only a few minutes later and looked around. Harry waved at him to get his attention and when the redhead saw him, he smiled and weaved his way through the crowd. After his own cloak was hanging over his chair, Ron sat down as well.

"I hate Christmas," Ron grumbled, as he waved Madam Rosmerta over to them. He also ordered a butterbeer and now that Ron was here, they ordered some lunch.

"You don't hate Christmas," Harry corrected him once the young Madam Rosmerta was gone. "You hate Christmas shopping."

Ron sent his friend a mock glare. "No, I hate Christmas. You seem to forget that little incident two days ago."

Harry almost choked on his butterbeer and had to wipe a few droplets away that had escaped his mouth with the back of his hand. The little incident two days ago had involved some mistletoe and a seventh year student.

Ron had told them afterwards that he had walked down one of the school corridors, when the girl had accidentally on purpose run into him right underneath some mistletoe. The flying instructor had tried to walk past her, after having apologized quickly though he wasn't at fault, the whole time trying to ignore the mistletoe hanging above them, until the girl had the nerve to point it out. Now, what was a professor to do in a situation like this, especially when the girl was only a few years younger than him? To get this problem out of the way, Ron had quickly leaned down and placed a peck on her cheek, before walking away, hoping that his face wasn't as red as his hair.

Hermione had looked scandalized after Ron had told them this, muttering things like _taking advantage of a young and innocent student_, until Ron had pointed out, who had exactly taken advantage of whom, which had shut Hermione effectively up. However, by the next day the news that Professor Weasley had kissed one of his students under some mistletoe had travelled all around school and Ron had started to avoid mistletoes like the plague.

"I swear, I can still hear her giggle," Ron complained and shoved a large piece of steak into his mouth.

Shrugging, Harry shoved some peas onto his fork with a teasing grin on his face. "Who knows, maybe you'll meet this girl again, when we go back, and then it's love at first sight."

Ron's head jerked up from his plate. "This is no laughing matter, Potter. Do you have any idea how old she'll be? _Really old!_"

"Whatever," his friend replied. "She'll graduate next term, won't she? After that, you can start something with her."

"You've gotta be kidding me," the redhead sputtered. Looking around to make sure that no one was listening to them, he said, "As if I'd ever start something with someone from _here_. I'm not Hermione and she's usually the responsible one. Really, how she could just jump into a relationship with some bloke from here, when we don't even know when we go back, is beyond me…"

Harry sighed, as Ron launched into yet another tirade about Hermione and her secret admire, again. By now, he knew all of his friend's arguments by heart. Hermione would need to lie to him all the time. Hermione would be heartbroken, once they returned to their time. And so on… It was trying to listen to all of this again, so Harry mostly tuned Ron out, hoping that he nodded at exactly the right times, while being engaged in his own thoughts.

He hadn't confronted Hermione about what he had witnessed, yet. But it was about time that he did. It couldn't go on like this. She needed to come clean with them, no matter how scared she was of their reactions to her secret. At least, she didn't need to worry about him anymore. After the initial shock at finding out that she and Draco were an item had subsided, he had decided that his first attitude – as long as Hermione was happy, he was happy for her – still counted. It had come as a huge surprise at first, of course, especially considering the history the two of them had, but they all had changed over the years, Draco most of all. He was no longer the spoiled little brat he had been at Hogwarts – he had grown up to bear responsibilities for his actions, he was fighting for the Order _against_ Voldemort and even though he and Harry got into as many spats during their missions as an old married couple, they still managed to work together and had developed something between them that resembled friendship. It was a bit strange, but it worked.

He really needed to talk to Hermione as soon as possible, Harry decided, as he continued to eat his lunch, while absently waiting for Ron to finish his tirade. He only hoped that, once Hermione got around to tell the truth, Ron wouldn't fly off the handle – much. And then, Harry still needed to give Draco the big brother speech.

"Still," Harry simply said with a smirk, as Ron was finally finished with his rant, "you love the presents too much to hate Christmas."

* * *

Hogwarts was still mostly deserted, when Harry and Ron returned from the village and went up to their rooms. Harry had to suppress a snicker, when he noticed that even though there was no single student to be seen in the hallways, Ron made a point of navigating around every mistletoe they encountered. It seemed to him, as if his red-haired friend knew the exact position of each and every one of them.

Suddenly feeling a bit mischievous, Harry flicked his wrist and some mistletoe they had just left behind began to follow Ron, which the redhead however didn't notice at once. First when they were standing in front of the portrait to their common room, did Ron notice the impish smirk on Harry's face.

"What are you smirking at?" he asked curiously. He watched his friend closely, and when the green eyes wandered up to something above his head, he followed the gaze and jumped back startled, when he finally spotted the mistletoe. "Bloody hell! Why didn't you warn me that there's one of those bloody things?"

"Sorry," Harry tried so say seriously, but failed miserably, when the mistletoe changed positions and was once again floating right over his friend's head.

With a surprised yell, Ron jumped yet another step backwards, but again the mistletoe followed him. He tried a step to the left and a step to the right, but no matter what he did, the offending twig stayed close to him. His head whipped around to Harry, who was holding his stomach in silent laughter. "It was you! You did this!" Footsteps echoed through the hall and Ron gave his friend a pleading look, already fearing the worst. "Please, undo it!"

But it was already too late, as Draco Malfoy rounded the corner and stopped dead in his track to take a good look at the spectacle in front of him. Harry almost saw the wheels turning in Draco's head, as the blond assessed the situation. They locked eyes and immediately the familiar sneer spread over his face. "Nice twig you got there, Weasley. Is it permanent?"

"Permanent?" Ron nearly squeaked and looked at Harry for help with wide-eyes, as most-likely all possible horror scenarios flashed through his mind, involving the mistletoe, him and a few seventh years girls.

Harry, however, chose to ignore his friend for the time being. _Just let him suffer a bit longer…_ "Hey Draco, do you have any idea, where 'Mione is?" With his newfound knowledge, which he didn't want to reveal yet to either of the two young men, he thought that if someone knew where Hermione was, it was Draco Malfoy.

Shrugging, Draco crossed the distance between them, also ignoring Ron. "Last time I've seen her was shortly after breakfast. She was on her way to the library then."

After having muttered something like 'I should've known' under his breath, Harry flashed Draco a grin of thanks and held out his shopping back, seeing as Ron was still too busy trying to get somehow rid of his offender. "Do you mind bringing this into my room? I have to talk to 'Mione and it can't wait any longer."

With a raised eyebrow, Draco looked from Harry to the bag and back to Harry, before he eventually nodded and took the bag out of his hand. "But you owe me, Potter."

"Of course," Harry agreed and quickly swept past him, wondering how long it might take Ron to figure out that a simple _Finite Incantatem_ would stop the mistletoe from following him around anymore.

When Harry reached the library not even ten minutes later, he nodded his greeting to Madam Pince and walked straight to the back, where he usually found Hermione, when she was working on something. Students seldom studied that far in the back, so she had all the peace she needed for her research.

But Hermione wasn't alone this time, as he found out, when he took a sharp turn around a shelf to the table she usually occupied – his mother was sitting there at well and they were obviously discussing something. Not wanting to feel as if he were eavesdropping, Harry immediately cleared his throat to get their attention. It worked perfectly well, as both of their heads jerked around to him. "Hey Hermione, Lily," he greeted them, not wanting to risk calling his mother 'mum', since he didn't know if there were maybe some other studious pupils around.

"Harry," both of them said simultaneously, as he had obviously surprised them. The two young women exchanged a quick worried glance and Harry immediately got curious.

"Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing at Hogwarts?" he asked his mother.

Lily looked once again at Hermione, who eventually nodded after a few seconds, before she sighed and admitted, "Research… We've been doing some research." Harry raised an eyebrow at them, as if asking 'Really? I wouldn't have noticed with all the books lying around.', and gazed pointedly at the table, which was buried underneath many big tomes. Lily breathed a deep sigh, "About Proferre Tempus."

This immediately got Harry's full attention and his head jerked up to meet both gazes. "We didn't mean to tell you, at least not yet," Hermione told him, lowering her eyes in shame at being caught, but this only made Harry angrier. He had always thought his friend knew how much he hated being kept in the dark, especially when it was this important. "Harry," she pleaded, "please, don't be angry… I knew you wouldn't like not knowing, but…"

"But I convinced her to keep this from you, from all of you," Lily suddenly spoke up to defend Hermione. "Not even James knows… We only told Albus a few days ago, because…"

She hesitated a moment and Harry noticed that his anger slowly subsided. With a sigh, he unclenched his fists and sat down in an empty chair, running a hand through his hair. He was being a hypocrite – how could he expect his friends, especially his mother, to tell him everything, when he was keeping so many things from them. "I'm sorry… Go on… You told Albus, because…"

Hermione and Lily exchanged another glance, as if silently communicating with each other, after which the brunette explained, "Because we believe we found someone who has used this spell and returned to his own time afterwards."

Harry gaped at them. If this was really true then it was truly possible for them to return as well. Now and then during the last few weeks, he had almost started to give up hope. They were already in this time for more than four months and so far Dumbledore hadn't had any news concerning any possibilities to send them home. But now, it was simply too good to be true. He couldn't wait to get back, but at the same time, a small part of him wanted to stay, which was quite understandable, Harry thought. Here in this time he had his parents and Sirius, after all, though the latter still didn't trust him. "I sense a _but_ coming…" he finally said, when he saw the somewhat subdued looks on their faces.

Hermione simply nodded at him. "But we don't know if this someone, a man by the name of Norton Lewthwaite, is still alive or if what he has written in this book is even true. He might just be a simple con man."

"But you don't believe this."

"Oh Harry," Hermione cried out and closed the book in front of her with a loud snap. "I don't know. But imagine, if this is really true, then—"

"We can go home," Harry interrupted her, but Hermione only shook her head, which confused him a bit.

However, it was Lily who continued the explanation this time. "Not just that… One of the reasons why I wanted to research this spell was to find out, if your appearance in this time changes anything in your time. According to this man, it doesn't. He supports Albus' first theory of the different timelines. Do you understand? If this Norton Lewthwaite really exists and if what he has written in this book," she raised a thick tome with red and silver bindings but without a title, "is true, you can tell us everything without worrying about how it will effect your time!"

Harry's heart swelled up with hope, hope that he had almost forgotten. It really was too good to be true. Telling his parents everything without having to worry, warning them about Voldemort's attack, informing them about the traitor in their midst and finally telling them so many other things.

"Albus is trying now to track him down, while we are looking for more information about Mr. Lewthwaite," Lily told him calmly. "The problem is that he is relatively unknown in the wizarding world. As a muggleborn he went to Hogwarts about a hundred years ago. Albus remembered him vaguely as one of his students, when we told him about our findings. A Hufflepuff, not extraordinary good in school, but he wasn't that bad either. He was just normal, fitted in with the crowd, a detention now and then, but was mostly overlooked. We guess that this was his reason for using this spell. He wanted to travel back in time to make himself more important, but when he came back, he noticed that nothing had changed at all."

"A hundred years ago?" Harry muttered in disbelieve, shaking his head. Even though he technically knew that wizards and witches usually died at a much higher age than normal humans – Albus Dumbledore self had celebrated his 160th birthday just last year in their time – it was still hard to understand that someone, who had visited Hogwarts a hundred years ago, was still alive. "I guess this is what you meant, when you said that you didn't know, if he still lived."

"Exactly," Hermione answered and then, after exchanging yet another meaningful look with Lily, she conceded, "Harry… We know how much you hate keeping so many things from your parents, so in case this Norton Lewthwaite is dead or everything about his time travel is just invented, we also planned to ask Albus, if it will be possible that you might tell them, if not everything, then at least something."

Shaking his head, Harry sighed defeated. "I already asked him, more than once. And I always get the same answer. It's too risky. We don't know, if we will change something in our time."

"But that's the point, Harry," Lily argued, her green eyes blazing. "Your arrival in this time already _has_ changed something. Albus' employment of the four of you has changed something. You revealing your identity to us has changed something."

Harry wanted to say something to contradict her, but hesitated. His mother was right. The attack on Hogsmeade and the attack of the snake at the end of the Halloween Ball were the proof. Those two things had never happened in their time. Things had changed and were changing, even in this very moment. Every action caused a reaction. How could he have been so blind all the time? Things were changing right under his nose and he hadn't noticed. "You're right. We need to talk to Albus about this. With this evidence, he just _can't_ forbid us to tell you what we know." He moved to rise from his chair. "The best would be to ask him now."

"That's not possible," Hermione stopped him. "He left this morning, following a lead. And he didn't know, when he would be back."

"Oh…" Harry slumped back into his chair. But he didn't want to give up. For the first time since they had arrived in the past, Harry felt as if he might really be able to help. He might be able to save his parents from almost certain death. His heart flared up with hope and he smiled at the two young women in front of him. Only a few more days… if at all.

They left the library about twenty minutes later, after they had discussed the new possibilities Hermione's and Lily's discovery offered a bit longer, and walked down the draughty hallways to the Entrance Hall. Harry and Hermione had offered to accompany Lily to the Hogwarts Gates, from where she planned to Apparate home. Fortunately both Harry and Hermione had their cloaks with them (Harry hadn't taken it off at all and Hermione had already fetched Lily earlier that morning from the gates and they had gone directly to the library), so no detour had been necessary and none of them were freezing, as they were trudging through the high snow.

After Lily had promised them to come by again in the following days, she disappeared with the typical popping noise of Apparition, leaving Harry and Hermione alone. Now, Harry knew, was the time to breach the topic, which he had originally wanted to discuss with Hermione. So, with a nervous breath, Harry took out his cigarettes, lit one and finally asked, "'Mione, can we talk?"

"Sure, what do you want to talk about?" she replied, rolling her eyes at his bad habit.

Instead of answering at once, Harry smiled grimly and began to walk towards the Quidditch pitch, knowing that no sane person would be out there in this cold. Hermione immediately fell in step next to him, now looking at him curiously. Taking the cigarette out of his mouth to shake the ash off, he simply said, "I know about you and Draco."

He noticed that Hermione stopped immediately in her tracks upon hearing this, but he walked on, trusting her to catch up to him again in a few seconds. And he was right, as she suddenly grabbed his arm and whirled him around to face her, a simple question on her lips, "How?"

With a shrug, Harry explained, "You woke me up." He didn't need to say more, because he saw in her eyes that she understood.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, lowering her head so that she wouldn't have to meet his eyes. "You shouldn't have found out like that…"

"Hey," he said softly, as he put his hand under her chin and forced her to look up at him. "It's alright. I understand. Okay, I admit, I've been shocked at first, but now it somehow makes sense, in some weird, twisted way, if you get my meaning. You and Draco," he shook his head with a grin on his face, "who would've thought ten years ago?"

A very unladylike snort escaped Hermione's lips. "Certainly not I, or any of us for that matter."

"But it's okay, really," Harry reassured her again. "I had this huge speech all planned out, about you having to be careful and about what I'll do, when he hurts you, but all I can really say is what I've already told Hagrid – as long as you're happy, I'm happy for you. You are happy with him, aren't you?"

"I am," Hermione answered and Harry saw tears glistening in her eyes. Suddenly, a split second later, she was hugging him tightly and Harry had to hold his cigarette away at arms length, while hugging her back with his other arm. "Thank you, Harry," she mumbled against his dark cloak.

Laughing, Harry rubbed her back. "You're welcome." He gently grabbed her shoulders and pulled her away from him, looking directly into her eyes. "Just, if you're ever again scared of telling me something, remember that you don't have to be. I'm your friend, 'Mione." And, in his mind, he added, _I'm not Ron._

"I know," she said, also with a weak laugh, wiping her eyes. "And I'll keep that in mind. But, thank you… again… It's good to know that you accept… us, just like this."

Harry simply shrugged again and took another drag from his cigarette. In his mind, after having thought about this for a long time of course, it really wasn't much of a big deal. "Not to spoil the moment, but you know that the hardest hurdle is still lying before you."

"Ron…" Hermione sighed.

"I won't tell him," Harry promised. "But you should tell him soon, before he finds out from somebody else."

Another sigh and then silence. Hermione began to walk again and Harry followed, having immediately recognized the thoughtful look on his friends face and knowing better than to disturb her now. Finally, after a few minutes, she said, "A few more days. Give me a few more days and I will tell him."

Harry put his arm around her shoulder and said, "You want a few more days? You'll get a few more days. But now, I think we should go back inside. It's damned cold out here!"

He was glad, when he heard her laughter and he soon joined her, when she suddenly said, "By the way, Harry… You should really get rid of this disgusting habit!"


	24. The Truth in Rumours

**A/N: I'm so sorry… But after my surgery (the cruciate ligament in my right knee tore during a self-defence class in June along with the meniscus, which had to be treated before the cruciate ligament) nearly four weeks ago, I just didn't have any motivation to write, being holed up at home without being able to do much except for being forced to lie on the couch and walk only short distances at a time, but now I think I'm getting back on track. Unfortunately the new term at university start again in a week and I have no idea how stressful this term will be.**

**However, I've finally finished the next chapter and here it is… Have fun!**

**

* * *

Chapter 24: The Truth in Rumours **

Thick fumes filled the air, obscuring the view in the already dark dungeons, and nearly no sound could be heard, except for the occasional '_plop'_ or sounds of cutting or stirring, as the second year Gryffindor/Slytherin Potions class was working more or less diligently on the Swelling Solution. The atmosphere between the students of the different houses was tense, but relatively peaceful, mostly due to the fact that even though their professor was sitting at the front desk and looking through the essays he had collected at the beginning of the glass, one had the impression that he was still keeping a close eye on each and every one of them.

Harry grinned slightly at this, as he was sitting unnoticed in a dark corner of the Potions classroom, seeing as he had never expected that his once school arch-enemy proved to be such a talented and respected teacher. This lesson was so different from the ones he had experienced in their own time -- this might be, because here in this time there was no Snape hovering over the students like an overgrown bat.

There were the usual directions at the blackboard, but Harry had witnessed how Draco had explained each and every single step, why things had to be done as they were done, and now he was giving his students the space they needed to work calmly and undisturbed and helped, when asked. This impressed Harry a lot. This truly spoke of how far Draco had come, of how much he had matured in the previous years. It made Harry wonder, if Draco had somehow chosen the wrong profession -- maybe he could be Snape's successor, if the older wizard ever gave up his job or finally got the Defence spot permanently, which hadn't been the case after his own seventh year at Hogwarts. There _really_ seemed to be a curse on that teaching spot.

Soon Draco called out that the time was up and that the students should bottle their potions, mark them with their names and then put them on his desk, before cleaning up. Immediately a lively hustle broke out in the classroom with students getting up from their seats left and right, some bringing their potions to the front and others putting away the ingredients they had needed. Harry had to suppress a chuckle, when he noticed the varying colours of the potions, glad that he didn't need to do this anymore. An _E_ on his N.E.W.T.s had gotten him safely into Auror programme and there he only had had to deal with one more term of Potions before he could finally leave this subject behind him. Still, watching cauldrons explode had always been pretty funny, as long as it hadn't been his own or one of his friends'.

Not even five minutes later the bell rang to announce that the class was over and Harry watched from the darkness as the students filed out of the room until the last one was gone. He just wanted to make his presence known to Draco, who was shuffling through some papers on his desk, as the Slytherin beat him to it.

"You can now come out of your hiding place, Potter," he said, without even looking up, but clearly with a smirk on his face.

Grinning, Harry left the dark corner and walked through an aisle between the students' desks to the front of the room. "How did you know I was there?" He knew he had been extra careful, when he came into the classroom, having even skipped lunch to not be noticed. No one had been there with Draco and most of the students still in the Great Hall, so he had thought that no one would know that he was watching.

"Nicked this from Filch's office." Draco held up a parchment, which Harry immediately recognized.

Harry took it out of his hand, not even noticing that Draco had once again turned his attention back to the essays and potion samples on his desk, and opened it, watching the tiny named dots moving around in the dungeons. At first he didn't know how he should feel about it, but in the end he decided that it didn't matter. Draco was one of them now and he had obviously used this parchment for something that would make the inventors proud -- besides, being half a Black, the parchment was just as rightfully his as it was Harry's.

After having muttered "Mischief Managed" to close the Marauders Map and putting it back down on the desk, Harry said, hoping to catch Draco off guard, "So this is how you and Hermione have been going on for so long without anyone catching you red-handed."

This statement had the desired effect, as the blond Slytherin looked up sharply. This sudden movement caused a phial to topple over and fall from the desk, but thanks to his Seeker reflexes, Harry caught it without problems and put it back on the desk where it had been standing before. Grey eyes meet green ones, as Draco simply said, "Let's go into my office."

He turned on the spot and went through a door next to the blackboard. With a shrug, Harry followed him and sat down in one of the green armchairs standing in front of a desk, while Draco was walking around the desk to sit down in his chair. None of them said a word during the first few minutes, Draco only watching Harry warily through the strands of pale blond hair falling over his eyes, but Harry was patiently waiting for the other young man to continue the conversation that Harry had initiated.

"So you know," Draco eventually stated, leaning back and crossing his arms defensively. "And I guess now you want to tell me to leave her alone."

"I could," Harry admitted, at once noticing how Draco's body tensed up, "but I won't. Listen, Draco," he continued, when he saw that the other young man wanted to say something, probably wanting to give him a piece of his mind, "I know Hermione and I believe I also know you pretty well by now and I know that both of you can be very stubborn. Besides, I think Hermione really likes you. I would even go as far as saying that she loves you. Who am I to stand in her way?"

"So," Draco drawled, obviously choosing his next words carefully, as he once again gazed at Harry through his bangs, though his stance had relaxed a bit, "you're okay with this… us?"

"If I weren't, would it matter?" Harry replied.

Scoffing, Draco unfolded his arms and got up from his chair, going to the cabinet behind his desk to get two glasses and a bottle of Firewhiskey, which he then placed again on the desk. He filled first Harry's glass and then his own, before he sat down again. "Not to me anyway… Cheers." He raised his glass to the lips and took a long draught.

"Cheers," Harry said with a grin and took a sip from his glass of Firewhiskey.

Silence fell over them, as they both nursed their drinks. Harry chanced a few glances at his former enemy over his glass. There was a thoughtful look on the blond's face, but as usual the grey eyes were guarded, not showing any kind of emotion. When his glass was empty, he put it back on the desk and was about to rise from the chair. Harry didn't think that Draco would say more to that topic, however, Draco obviously planned on continuing to surprise him that day, when he suddenly said, "Thank you."

Inclining his head, Harry said, "You're welcome." He finally got up and was just about to leave the office, when he turned back one more time. "Before I forget, Draco… Hermione's like a sister to me and if you ever hurt her…"

"I know, you're going to hex me or curse me or whatever," Draco waved Harry's threat off as if it were nothing. "But I don't think you're going to have to do that."

"I'm glad to hear this. I'll see you at dinner." This was not how Harry had planned to give Draco the obligatory big brother speech, but he was just as satisfied with this result. Hermione really seemed to be in good hands. Then, suddenly, as he was already halfway through the classroom, Harry doubled back to say, "Speaking of dinner… You _do_ know that you can't get out of any invitations coming from my or Ron's parents anymore, right?"

"Shove off, Potter!" Draco growled, but there was an amused smirk on his face. Harry simply grinned at him and this time really left the Potions classroom and the dungeons.

* * *

The following days leading up to the Christmas holidays passed quickly for everyone who was living at Hogwarts. The whole castle was filled with the spirit of Christmas. In addition to the mistletoe, Professor Flitwick had once again charmed the armours to sing carols and Hagrid had decorated the Great Hall and the Entrance Hall with huge evergreen trees. Even classes were more fun, for both students and teachers, as both parties were infected by the extraordinary good mood in the castle. 

During the meals and in the common room Harry had taken to carefully observe Draco and Hermione, whose relationship he still kept a secret, as he had promised Hermione. Harry had to admit that both of them were really good actors -- if he didn't know what he was looking for, he would certainly miss the subtle signs. A fleeting touch here, a wistful glance there -- now that Harry knew what was going on, it was pretty obvious actually. But he still didn't breathe a word. He just hoped that Hermione would soon gather enough courage to tell Ron her secret, before the redhead found out on his own.

Three days before the Christmas holidays began (and one week before Christmas), Ron received a Floo call from his parents. They asked him, if he and his friends wanted to celebrate the holiday with them, first with dinner on Christmas Eve and then participate in the Grand Weasley Present Opening Ceremony. James, Lily and little Harry would also be there. Mrs. Weasley also gave a hint that she had some news, which she wanted to share with them that night. When Ron told Harry and Hermione this, he appeared to be completely clueless, but his two friends immediately gave each other a knowing look. They accepted this invitation of course, even Draco after Harry had _convinced_ him with a pointed look and a superior smirk.

All in all, everything was peaceful. Even Voldemort and his Death Eaters were lying low, which, in Harry's opinion, didn't bode well, but for now he wasn't going to complain about this. It was good to finally read some good news in the papers instead of the steadily rising death toll. The only thing that worried Harry was the fact that Dumbledore was still absent from Hogwarts, obviously still looking for Norton Lewthwaite. Harry wished he could help, somehow, but all he could do was wait for Dumbledore to come back, hopefully with good news.

Still, all of them, probably except for Hermione, were happy when the day most of the students were going home arrived. Minerva McGonagall, who was carrying out her duty as Deputy Headmistress during Dumbledore's absence, had asked Ron to help Hagrid to supervise the send-off of the students at the Hogsmeade Station. So, while Ron was outside, the other three time travellers were lounging in their common room, Harry and Hermione playing chess and Draco reading in front of the fire.

Harry and Hermione's game was fairly evenly matched, which was a welcome change to their being beaten by Ron every time they played against him. There was a slight tug at Harry's lips, as he watched with a calculating look Hermione contemplate her next move. One wrong move on her side and he was going to win, he knew it. However, Hermione discovered the trap (of course) and, cursing under his breath, Harry regarded the new situation on the board. Once again, everything was possible.

His ponderings about what to do next were suddenly interrupted, when the portrait to their common room swung aside and Ron stepped inside, rubbing his hands through his gloves. "Bloody hell," he muttered, as he crossed the room, instead of taking off his cloak pulling it tighter around him and slumped down in one of the armchairs in front of the fire. He leaned over and held his hands directly over the burning charcoal to get warm again. "Do you have any idea how cold it is outside? I couldn't feel my limbs anymore, when the sodding train finally took off."

After Harry had eventually moved a piece without noticing his mistake, Hermione calmly set him checkmate, ignoring his fake cry of outrage, before she turned to the redhead and said, "I take it the students are all sent off?"

"All gone, the castle's ours… Well, of course except for the few students that stay here over the hols," Ron replied with a grin. "I can't imagine how Hagrid's doing this every term. I mean, all those students at one place, running around, looking for a compartment, boarding the train, getting off again… And this noise! It almost seems as if this is the last time those kids see each other, especially the girls! Have we ever been this bad?"

"Well, I don't think that _we_'ve been this bad," Harry told him. "But I believe there were some… Like--"

"Lavender, Parvati… or girls in general, I know," Ron laughed. "And you'll never believe what a group of girls was talking about! I was just walking past them, when one girl, you know, that fifth year Ravenclaw, Simone something or other, told her friends that she has seen… Oh, you'll never believe this!" Ron was laughing harder now, his shoulders shaking. "She claimed that she has seen Hermione and Malfoy _snogging_ in his classroom! I tell you, this is the most hilarious thing I've ever heard, don't you think so?"

However, when Ron looked at them, he didn't get a reaction, or at least not the one he had expected. Harry, noticing his friend's eyes on him, lowered his gaze. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw that Hermione had tensed visibly and that Draco had put his book aside and sat up. Ron raised an eyebrow at their weird behaviour and it was obvious that he was getting suspicious.

But before Ron could put two and two together, Hermione took a deep breath, rose from her chair and walked over to Draco, who now also got up. She stood next to him and then, with a strong voice, said, "Ron, there's something you should know." Hermione hesitated and her eyes flickered to Harry, who simply gave her an encouraging nod, which brought a small, confident smile on her face. "Draco was the secret admirer. We've been together since Halloween."

Harry had expected an explosion, yelling, fuming, one of Ron's infamous tantrums, but nothing happened. His best male friend of eleven years simply stood there, pale and with his mouth slightly parted. The only sound he managed was a quiet and surprised, "Oh."

"Ron? Mate?" Harry asked carefully, glancing at Hermione who now looked quite uncertain about what she should do in this situation. Just like Harry she had obviously been prepared to deal with a raging Ron, but now all of them were at a loss. "Are you alright?"

Ron's head turned slowly to Harry. He blinked and then shook his head slightly. "I'm-- I'm sorry… I-- I need to go for a walk." And then, without another word, he got up, turned on his heels and left the common room, leaving behind two very bewildered friends.

Harry stared at the portrait that had just closed behind Ron. What had just happened? Hermione was looking at him questioningly, when he turned to her -- he immediately noticed the hand Draco had put on her shoulder -- but all he could do was shrug. He knew as much as she about their friend's weird behaviour, which was nothing, if he was completely honest.

"Do you… Do you think I should…?" she asked uncertainly, again looking at the doorway.

"Go after him?" Harry answered and just shrugged again. "I don't know…"

Much to their surprise, it was Draco who answered their question. He squeezed Hermione's shoulder and gently took her chin into his other hand to force her to look into his eyes, as he said with a soft voice, which he obviously only reserved for Hermione, "Personally, I think you should give him some space right now and some time to think. Not that I believe that he's even capable of this, but you know what I mean. Weasley'll come back when he's ready. Don't worry."

Those words were everything it took for Hermione to break out in tears, as, Harry guessed, all the tension of keeping such an important part of her life a secret ebbed away. She buried her face in Draco's chest, who put his arms around her and pulled her close. Harry smiled at this unexpected and unusual show of affection from the former Slytherin Prince and silently retreated into his own room to give the couple some much needed privacy.

* * *

Ron didn't turn up for lunch that day, he wasn't in his room or the common room in the afternoon and he also wasn't at dinner. When the other teachers asked for him, Hermione answered that he wasn't feeling well and had lain down to rest. Harry was growing worried for his friend, but understood that Ron had just had his whole world turned upside down. Harry himself had needed some time to digest the news that his best female friend and his former enemy were an item, so he could barely imagine what Ron was going through now. 

On a happier note, Dumbledore was sitting at the round dining table in the middle of the Great Hall, which replaced the House tables for the duration of the holidays, when Harry, Hermione and Draco entered that Hall for dinner that night. As they sat down, Harry noticed with an amused grin on his face that Hermione was nearly bursting with the question that was also going through his head. Did Dumbledore find Norton Newthwaite? But they couldn't ask that question now, not with the other teachers and some students present.

Dinner was an uncomfortable affair. Neither he nor Hermione could eat a thing and only shoved their food around on their plates, much to Draco's confusion. When he asked, what was wrong with them, Hermione silenced him with her typical _Not now-glare_ and answered for appearance's sake that she just wasn't hungry, as she had been to the kitchens on some business earlier and couldn't refuse the house elves' offer of a _small_ snack. Harry only nodded and mumbled something about having been with her.

When the table was finally cleared and teachers and students excused themselves and wished each other a good night, Dumbledore asked the three time travellers to stay for a moment after everyone else was gone. There was the usual twinkle in his blue eyes, as he gazed at them over his half-moon spectacles, but Harry thought that the twinkle was somehow brighter. Or maybe he just imagined it.

"Minerva told me that Ronald isn't feeling well today," Dumbledore said once they were alone. "I hope he hasn't fallen ill now that Christmas is approaching fast."

"Don't worry, Albus," Harry quickly reassured him. "He isn't sick… Ron's just…" He shrugged and looked at Hermione for help, but she obviously also didn't know what to say, so he sighed, ran with his hand through his hair and admitted, "He got some rather… unexpected news this morning and needed to retreat for a while."

"Ah, I understand," Dumbledore replied smiling, as he glanced at Draco and Hermione. "It's good to hear that he isn't sick, seeing as I was hoping the four of you would join me in my office for a cup of tea or cocoa tonight. I've got something important to tell you that shouldn't be discussed here. Let's say, in one hour, at eight o'clock?"

"Of course, Albus, thank you," Hermione told him. "We will see you then…"

On their way out, Harry wondered where he might find Ron. He needed to be present for this and Dumbledore had explicitly said _four of them_. Just as he was about to walk through the door of the Great Hall, he heard Dumbledore call his name.

"I believe I saw a speck of red on the stands of the Quidditch pitch on my return."

Looking over his shoulder, Harry flashed the Headmaster a grateful smile, before he parted ways with his friends, who went back to their common room, to look for his best friend.

* * *

Just as Dumbledore had said he would, Harry found Ron sitting on the stands of the Quidditch pitch, his thick winter cloak wrapped tightly around to him protect him from the severe cold. It had started to snow again a few moments ago, and there was already a thin layer of flakes on his shoulders and hair. Ron seemed to be far away with his thoughts, as he was simply staring straight ahead, not seeing anything. He didn't even notice, when Harry sat down next to him. Harry, however, didn't say anything to get his friend's attention. He knew Ron -- sooner or later he would snap out of it and see that Harry was there. 

They sat together in silence for long minutes. Harry slowly felt the cold penetrate his cloak, as it was soaked by the snowflakes still falling from the sky. Flicking his wrist, he wandlessly and wordlessly put a warming spell on both of them – it really wouldn't do them any good to come down with a cold or worse, pneumonia, on Christmas.

Ron didn't say anything for a long time and Harry feared that he would have to make that first step after all so that they wouldn't be late for that meeting with Dumbledore. But just as he had made up his mind that they couldn't wait any longer, his best friend finally spoke.

"I really lost her, didn't I?"

Harry turned his head and saw his best friend looking at him. His red hair was wet and some strands were hanging in front of his eyes. There was a smile on his face, but it was a sad one. Sighing, Harry simply nodded. "I'm sorry, mate."

"I should have known," Ron mumbled, his voice sounding defeated. "I had thought that just with enough time, that maybe, you know, 'Mione would see that she still loves me and that we could get back together… I'm an idiot."

"No, you're not," Harry told him forcefully, grabbing his shoulder and squeezing it tightly. "If it were me and…" He shook his head, not wanting to go there right now. Ron didn't know about the one kiss he and Ginny had shared. "If I loved someone as you love Hermione, I would have done the same in your stead. But, Hermione has moved on and… I know you probably won't believe a word of this, but Draco's become a decent bloke. She's happy with him."

Ron sighed deeply and turned his gaze back to the pitch. "Do you know what the strangest thing is? I believe you. I've seen Hermione during the last few weeks and she was glowing. She might not know it herself yet, but she's in love. Malfoy really must have changed much for her to fall in love with him. And come to think of it that the whole time, ever since she got the roses on her birthday, I've been jealous of Christophe Hayden." He snorted and buried his face in the palms of his hands.

Soon, Ron's shoulders began to tremble under Harry's hand, as silent sobs began to shake his whole body. Harry simply squeezed his shoulder again and sat with him until the sobs subsided and Ron had calmed down. This was all he could do for him, because Ron was right. He had lost Hermione. He had already lost her completely, when he had called her a Mudblood nearly five years ago, and he hadn't fully realized it until now.

* * *

Hermione and Draco were already waiting in front of the gargoyle leading up to Dumbledore's office, when Harry and Ron finally arrived. Thanks to the invention of drying charms they were no longer soaking wet, but Harry clothes now felt stiff on his skin. He swore that he would never get the complete hang of this charm. 

Their footsteps echoed in the otherwise empty hall and both of their friends looked up, when they heard them approach. A hopeful look lit up Hermione's face, when she saw that Ron was with him, and she took an expectant step forward. Still, she wrung her hands nervously, once Harry and Ron came to a halt in front of them and her voice sounded nervous, when she asked, "Ron? Are you alright?"

Harry noticed a lot of her tension fade, as Ron gave her a hesitant smile. "Not yet, but I'll be…" the redhead just answered.

"Ron…" Hermione mumbled. "I'm sorry… Please, let me explain…"

Raising his hands in front of him, Ron shook his head with resolve. "No, I don't want to talk about it. I can't. Not yet. Besides, Harry told me that Dumbledore needed to talk to us about something important. We shouldn't let that old man wait, don't you think?"

She nodded, not looking happy about not being able to talk to Ron about this, to make sure that everything was right between them, but she agreed that the meeting with Dumbledore was more important at the moment. "Let's go inside. Space Dust."

The stone gargoyle sprang aside and Draco, standing closest to the staircase, went up first, followed by Harry. A relieved smile spread over Harry's face, when he overheard Ron's voice whisper, "I'm not angry at you, 'Mione, or at Malfoy for that matter. We're good." When his two friends caught up with him, Harry showed no sign of having heard this, but his heart still felt lighter. He had feared that their friendship would again be in danger, but Ron had obviously grown up a lot.

Dumbledore was, as usual, sitting behind his desk, but he wasn't alone. Lily and James, as well as Molly and Arthur were also present, which was a surprise. Harry and Ron immediately greeted their parents warmly, followed by Hermione and Draco, whereas the latter acted a bit more reserved. Once the inquiries as to what they were doing here ("Albus asked us to come by tonight," Lily told Harry with a wink. "He says there's something important he needs to tell all of us.") and short small talk died down, everyone settled down in the plush armchairs that Dumbledore had conjured -- Harry still wondered sometimes, how magic could expand rooms like this for everyone to fit in comfortably without disturbing what was located next to said room --, so that they could start their meeting.

"I know some of you wonder, why I have called in this meeting, while others may also wonder, where I have been these last couple of days," Dumbledore began, immediately grabbing their full attention. "As I'm sure that you're not all filled in on the recent discoveries, let me tell you this from the beginning. Due to the lack of news regarding the situation of our visitors, these two intelligent young women," he nodded towards Lily and Hermione, "took it upon themselves to do more research about the spell, which brought you here, and stumbled upon a book with some valuable information. In this book, a wizard by the name of Norton Lewthwaite claims to have used this spell to travel into his past and to return to his own time afterwards. After the ladies came to me with this information, I decided to track down this wizard. Once I had a lead, I left Hogwarts to look for him in person."

"But you're back now," Hermione suddenly exclaimed eagerly, as the questions that had been plaguing her since she had known that Dumbledore was back, just burst out. "Did you find him? Is there a way for us to go home?"

Albus Dumbledore gazed at her over his half-moon spectacles, the twinkle in his blue eyes brighter than before. "The answer to both of your question is… yes."


	25. The Moment of Truth

**A/N: Will you forgive me for the long wait? Sometimes RL is really a b… University and so on takes up a lot of time… But I won't bore you with long winded excuses. What I want to do is thank you all for your reviews! I know I left you with a cliffhanger, but this chapter will continue directly where the last one ended. But I believe in this chapter you'll all find what you've been waiting for sooo long!**

**I don't want to let you wait any longer, so let me just say one more thing: Have fun!**

**

* * *

Chapter 25: The Moment of Truth**

At first, Dumbledore's response was met with stunned silence, as each of them had to process the true meaning of this simple word. _Yes._ Harry didn't dare to blink, as he gazed at the Headmaster, as if afraid that once he closed his eyes and opened them again, he would be back in their common room to find out that nothing of this had happened. Only second later, voices exploded around him, questions flying around, exclamations of relief and happiness filling his ears, but still, Harry didn't say anything.

They could return home. To their own time. Almost five months had they waited to hear this and now, now he couldn't, didn't want to believe that this was really true. To be completely honest, he liked living in this time – after long years of longing for them, he finally had his parents back. Only once in his life, Harry wanted to be selfish, but found that it was impossible. The others all had lives and family – or in Draco's case freedom of his family – in their time and Harry couldn't deny them this.

At the same time, as he decided that he couldn't deny the others their lives, a new sense of determination began to fill him and a fire that had dimmed a bit during the last few months of relative peace flared up anew. They would return home. He would finish what he had started on the night of his birthday. He would finally kill Voldemort. The war would finally end.

"Please," Dumbledore's voice suddenly echoed through his office, effectively cutting off the confusion of voices that filled the room. "I know you are all very excited about those developments, but I have to ask you to pay attention just a bit longer, before you may bombard me with all the questions you might have. There are still a few more facts I have to tell, or rather, show you."

The aged Headmaster rose from his chair and went to a cabinet, which Harry immediately recognized. And he wasn't disappointed, when Dumbledore opened it to reveal the soft silvery glow of memories, took the Pensieve out and placed it on his desk. Harry's fingers were itching, wondering which memory they were going to view in a few moments. Harry guessed that those were either from this Lewthwaite or Dumbledore, but he knew for sure that the information this memory contained would be extremely important for their return.

"It might become a bit crowded," Dumbledore continued eventually. "But I believe you all should see this memory. This will save us all some time and energy to discuss where we have to go from here later on. I'd suggest that one of you go first and I'd go last, so that the memory won't start replaying the events before you're all present." His eyes wandered over the people sitting and standing in his office, until Harry felt his gaze resting on him. "Harry would you like to…"

Dumbledore didn't need to say more, because Harry was already standing, ready to plunge into the memory. He crossed the distance to the Pensieve in a few resolute strides and didn't even hesitate to take a deep breath, which he usually did before entering a memory, as he dipped his face into the silvery liquid. Immediately he felt his feet leave the ground and he was falling through darkness. Only moments later, Harry found himself standing on the pavement of a brightly lit Muggle street. Looking up at the sun and having to shield his eyes from its harshness, Harry guessed that it was just past noon.

One after another the others arrived around him, but Harry didn't pay them any heed, as he looked around. This street reminded him eerily of Privet Drive. The red brick houses looked all the same, the gardens were neatly kept and if he didn't know better, he'd say that the bored housewives were already craning their necks to get a better look at them. But maybe this feeling wasn't ill-founded, as he suddenly saw the memory of a very eccentrically dressed Albus Dumbledore (he was wearing a lime green pinstriped suit) walk down the street up to a house bearing the number ten.

"As you are probably aware by now," the Dumbledore that came with them into the memory said, "this is my memory of my visit to Mr. Lewthwaite. If you'll follow me, please…"

None of them said a word, too nervous and excited about what they were about to witness, whom they were about to meet, though indirectly. They followed both Dumbledores along the gravel path that led up to the front door and waited patiently, as the memory Dumbledore rang the doorbell. Only a short time later, the door was opened and revealed a smaller, wiry man walking at a cane, with thin grey hair that was combed over his head to cover a bald spot. The man's brown eyes widened, when he recognized the wizard in front of his door.

"Albus Dumbledore!" he exclaimed stunned, immediately stepping aside and ushering the wizard inside. Harry and the others followed him and Harry immediately felt cramped with eleven persons standing in the narrow hallway, even though nine of them weren't actually there. "Headmaster! This is quite a surprise! To what do I owe this honour? Come in, come in…"

Harry sighed in relief, when this small man, he guessed that this was Norton Lewthwaite, limped into an adjourning room, obviously the living room. Norton Lewthwaite motioned to a group of armchairs assembled around a coffee table and he and Dumbledore sat down across from each other. Harry used this chance to look around this living room and was somewhat surprised. Although the houses all resembled those on Privet Drive, this living room certainly didn't look at all like the living room of his aunt and uncle. The furniture was stuffy and comfortable-looking, dark wood and warm colours, with many knick knacks, both magical and Muggle, displayed on various shelves.

Among those things was a wizarding picture of two men – one still a teenager while the other appeared to be around thirty - standing side by side and waving in the camera. Harry stepped closer, as he noticed something rather peculiar in this photo. Despite the difference in age, those men could pass as twins! It was more than the resemblance between a father and his son and the suddenly not so unlikely thought that it was one and the same person crossed his mind. His heart began to beat faster. So it really was true – Norton Lewthwaite had travelled back in time.

"Tea, Headmaster?" Norton Lewthwaite suddenly asked, pulling Harry out of his thoughts. "I just made a pot. I hope you like Earl Grey?"

"Thank you, Mr. Lewthwaite," Dumbledore said, the first time he had spoken since he had stepped into this house.

Lewthwaite waved his wand and another tea cup joined the one already standing on the table. He filled the other teacup with the steaming liquid and offered sugar and milk, both of which Dumbledore politely denied. Once both were seated comfortably and had taken the first sip of their teas, Lewthwaite finally said, "I really don't want to seem impolite, Headmaster, but I'm sure that you're not just here to have a cup of tea with me."

"Indeed," Dumbledore answered at length and placed his cup on the table. He pulled out his wand and placed a privacy charm around the room. Once he was sure that no one would be able to overhear what they were going to talk about, Dumbledore looked at him with a very serious expression on his face. "Mr. Lewthwaite, I'm here to talk to you about the spell _Proferre Tempus_."

Harry noticed that Lewthwaite visibly tensed for a split second and he wasn't the only one. The others with him, and especially the Albus Dumbledore in this memory, had noticed this as well.

"I have no idea, what you are talking about, Headmaster," Lewthwaite replied, his voice shaking slightly. It was obvious to everyone in this room that this man didn't know how to lie convincingly.

"Oh, I believe you do. I believe you don't just know of this spell, but that you have used this on yourself." Harry saw that Dumbledore's eyes met Lewthwaite's and he suddenly understood what the old wizard was doing. He didn't know if he should be angry that he was using Legilimency or not. In his opinion it was still an invasion of someone's privacy, but on the other hand it was helping them to find out if Norton Lewthwaite really did know about the spell or not. "As a matter of fact, I _know_ that you have used this spell to travel back in time and have returned."

With a resigned sigh, Norton Lewthwaite sagged deeper into the soft cushions of the armchair. "You rumbled me, Sir, and I'm not even going to ask, how you found out about this. I'm sure you wouldn't tell me."

"You are correct, Mr. Lewthwaite", Dumbledore replied. "Furthermore I trust that my inquiring about this matter will stay between us. It is very important that you do not talk to anyone about this, otherwise I would see myself forced to obliviate you."

"Of course, Headmaster", Lewthwaite promised. "Now, I'm sure you do have some questions about this particular spell and my experience with it."

Dumbledore smiled and nodded slightly. "If you were still at Hogwarts, I would probably award Hufflepuff five points. However, my source told me that you used this spell because you were, how should I say, discontented with your life."

Lewthwaite chuckled bitterly and motioned with his hands around the room. "Whoever or whatever your source is, they are correct. After Hogwarts I had always dreamt of a better life, of doing great things, but unfortunately neither my OWLs nor my NEWTs had been good enough for an outstanding career. You know that I barely scraped an A on my Transfiguration NEWTs. See where it got me. I got an average job, I live in an average house and have an average life. I was just a few years out of Hogwarts and I was already bored of my life, so I decided that I had to change it. At first I didn't know how, but then I remembered something I discovered during my OWLs studies.

"Back then I found a book in the library and I don't even know why I took it out of the shelf, because there was no title and no author on the cover, but when I opened it I found a very interesting lecture about a spell called _Proferre Tempus_, a time travel spell. I was so captivated by the concept of time travel without a time turner, by the possibilities that were offered, that I decided to copy this information down. When I remembered those notes, I knew that this was the key to change my life."

Norton Lewthwaite sighed, as he thought back to those times, and took another sip of his tea. He looked over to Dumbledore and Harry followed his gaze, seeing the wise wizard watching Lewthwaite with great interest. "Go on," Dumbledore simply said.

The old time traveller put the cup back on the coffee table, before he eventually resumed his tale. "It took a few months of preparation, memorizing the wand movements and then waiting for the right moment – you must know that this spell only works on the last day of a month and you can only travel back years, so you arrive on the exact day you left, only a few years in the past – before I used this spell on myself. I travelled back, ten years to be precise, and arrived only a few days before my other self received his Hogwarts letter.

"I watched him, which was quite an experience, if I may say so, until Professor Dippet, I'm sure you remember that he was Deputy Headmaster back then, came to my parents' house and informed him about my being a wizard. After that, I gave my younger self a few days to get used to the idea, until I confronted him, two weeks after I'd arrived in that time. He was a bit surprised to say the least, but after I'd explained my, our situation, he was more than willing to let me help him.

"I spent nine years in the past, guided him through Hogwarts and later through his apprenticeship at the Ministry and made sure that he would have good grades the whole time so that his future would be better than mine." He sighed and wearily rubbed his eyes. "While I was doing this, I always thought that I would return to a future where everything was changed, but I was wrong. After nine years I came back… to the exact date when I left, but nothing had changed at all. I had aged nine years, but everything else was the same. I was still working as shop assistant, my flat was still a rathole and I…"

Harry heard a gasp coming from Hermione. Harry had understood this as well. The theory of the different timelines was true. Norton Lewthwaite had changed his life in another time, but his own had remained unchanged.

Lewthwaite sighed again, shaking his head. Seeing this, Harry felt a pang of pity rising up in him for this man. "The only good thing that I got out of this experiment was that, being several years older, I finally met a woman who didn't know me from Hogwarts. Mildred and I married only one year later. She was truly the best thing that has ever happened to me and even though we had no children, we spent many happy years together. She passed away two years ago…"

Norton Lewthwaite trailed off, now looking forlornly out of the window. Feeling that it was quite inappropriate to be staring at him in a situation like this, knowing that this man didn't know that he was being watched, Harry averted his eyes from him and once again looked around the room. He thought back to the revelation from only a few moments ago and his heart rose in his chest. He would be able to do something. He would be able to fight! No more sitting back and letting this time play out in front of him, no more feeling helpless. Voldemort wouldn't know what hit him.

And more importantly, he could finally follow up on his promise...

Harry looked back to Lewthwaite and Dumbledore, just as the scene faded out around them and he found himself back in Dumbledore's office. No one said anything, but it was obvious on their faces that they all had understood the importance of this memory.

Harry Potter's eyes met Dumbledore's and this time he couldn't see the usual twinkle behind the old wizard's half-moon glasses. Dumbledore knew what he was about to do, but he also knew that he couldn't stop him. Not anymore. Turning around, Harry's gaze rested on his parents. "We need to talk," he simply said and just wanted to walk ahead and leave the office, as Dumbledore's voice caused him to pause.

"Harry, one moment please. There's one more thing I need to tell all of you. It's about what needs to be done so that you are able to return home."

"You don't need me for that," Harry just replied, without turning around. He simply looked at Ron, Draco and Hermione. The latter had tears in her eyes and Harry offered her a small smile, to comfort her, telling her that he was alright, but that he simply had to do this. "I'm sure the others will fill us in. _This_ is now more important for me."

"Of course, mate," Ron said at once. "You go ahead. We'll see you later."

Harry gave him a grateful smile and clapped his friend on the shoulder, as he walked past him. "Thanks, Ron. I appreciate that." The young man hesitated for a moment, before he cleared his throat. "You can tell your parents everything, if they want to know. We don't need to keep secrets any longer."

"Except for one," Ron replied, winking at Harry, who immediately understood and couldn't suppress a quiet chuckle, despite the gravity of the situation.

"You're right… We shouldn't tell you parents about _that_, yet. Or maybe not at all." Harry chanced a glance at Arthur and Molly, who appeared to be a bit confused by this strange exchange of words. "Alright, I'll see you later. Mum, dad?"

"We're right behind you, Harry," James said seriously. He had his arm wrapped around his wife's waist and nodded at him to lead the way. Without another word, Harry and his parents left Dumbledore's office.

* * *

This was probably the longest walk to the Room of Requirement that Harry had ever experienced, though it was probably just his mind playing tricks on him. His heart was beating fast and hard against his chest and his hands were sweaty. All those months he had waited for this moment, when he would finally tell his parents the truth.

But were they ready to hear the truth?

Harry almost stopped dead in his tracks, when this thought shot through his mind. What _if_ they weren't ready? And now that he thought about it, just _how_ was he going to tell them? He had never not planned to tell his parents the harsh truth, once it was completely sure that his own time wouldn't be changed by the events in his time, but he had never thought about the way how he was going to do this. How do you tell your parents that, if they didn't do anything, they'd be dead in a year's time? How do you tell them that Voldemort murdered them when you were one year old?

Well, ready or not, they were now standing in front of the door to the Room of Requirement, which had appeared out of thin air, after Harry had walked past the painting of Barnabas the Barmy three times. Taking a deep breath, Harry put his hand on the doorknob, opened the door and stepped inside. There was no turning back now.

The insides of the room represented the Gryffindor common room and Harry had to grin slightly. It was weird how his subconscious still chose this room as the place he felt most comfortable in. There was a fire roaring in the fireplace and three stuffy red armchairs were assembled around the fire. A small coffee table stood by the side with three steaming mugs. According to the smell wafting up to them those mugs were filled with hot chocolate.

"Bloody hell!" James exclaimed, once he was standing in the room and the door had fallen shut behind them. "This looks just like the common room!"

Harry's grin widened, as he turned around. He just remembered that the Room of Requirement wasn't recorded on the Marauders Map, so his father probably didn't even know that it existed. "Welcome to the Come and Go Room, as the house-elves call it. The room's official name is the Room of Requirement," Harry explained to them. His mother had a look of wonder on her face, while she was looking around. From one second to another there was a tall bookshelf standing at the wall directly in front of her, obviously her doing.

"This is fantastic," she breathed, tenderly caressing the shelf. "This magic…"

"That's Hogwarts," Harry simply said with a shrug, glad for the small distraction, although he knew that it wouldn't last.

"I wonder, why we never found this room…" James mused quietly, slowly walking up to Harry. "I mean, we've found everything else. I hope you did tell my other self about this, so that the future Marauders could update the Map."

Harry's throat tightened painfully and the grin immediately vanished from his face. His parents immediately noticed the change in his mood and looked at him worriedly. "Maybe we should sit down," he told them grimly.

None of them said a word, as they said down in the three armchairs around the fire. Harry looked down at his hands and a tense silence settled over them. The fire crackled in the fireplace, disturbing the silence. He knew that he needed to start, but he didn't know how. It was just so hard.

"Harry?" The young man looked up, as he heard his mother's soft voice. Her green eyes looked at him compassionately and she clasped his hands within hers. "Whatever it is you have to tell us, don't be afraid. We can take it." Harry gave her a look, as if asking 'Are you sure?', but the light smile on her face was so sincere, that he eventually nodded.

"Dad, mum," he began hesitantly. "You-you said that you wanted to know… Before I begin, I just have to ask you again, do you really, I mean, really want to know? Everything?"

"Tell us, Harry…" his father nearly pleaded. "We've waited so long. Tell us what has happened in your time."

"Alright," Harry croaked, forcing him to clear his throat. "What I'm going to tell you now isn't… you won't like to hear it. Dad, you… he had already figured part of it out… You know that Voldemort gave me this scar," Harry pulled his wild bangs aside to reveal the famous lightning bold. "You know that he was after me, but you don't know yet why or when."

Harry took another deep breath and recited the prophecy, the whole time looking at a golden spot in the back of the room, scared of seeing his parents' reaction. Still, when he was finished, he heard his mother's sharp intake of breath and the curse that left his father's lips.

"There was an eavesdropper, I don't know who," he continued, now just wanting to get this painful tale over with. "He only heard the first half of the prophecy, but relayed it to Voldemort. Two boys were born at the end of July – Neville, the son of the Longbottoms, and I. Voldemort thought that I would be the one. He chose me. He came for me on Halloween 1981, next year. We were in hiding, under the Fidelius Charm. You just cast it one week before the attack. But the Secret Keeper betrayed you, he told Voldemort where you were hiding."

It was all simply blustering out of him. He couldn't stop now. In a few minutes his parents would know everything and somehow Harry was sure that then some of the weight on his shoulders would be lifted.

"You didn't expect it. You weren't prepared." Memories that usually only surfaced under the influence of a Dementor suddenly forced their way into his mind. He shivered despite the warmth of the fire. "He just blew up the door and came into our home. Dad, you tried to save mum and me. You told her to take me and run. You wanted to hold him off." His voice sounded distant in his ears, but he continued, seeing everything in front of his inner eye. A flash of green light. "Voldemort killed you. Then he went after mum and me. We were hiding in my room. He gave you a choice, mum. You could give me up and live, but you didn't. You protected me and he killed you." Harry felt tears in his eyes and had to blink a few times to get rid off them. "Then Voldemort turned his wand on me. He cast the Killing Curse, but instead of killing me, it rebounded on him. He lost his body and fled. The Killing Curse gave me this scar."

Harry finally looked at them, seeing their ghostly pale face. Silent tears were running down his mother's cheeks, while his father was just shaking his head in disbelief. Suddenly James leapt up and kicked the bucket with the wooden logs, sending it crashing across the floor with a scream.

Silence, only the heavy breaths of his father were audible.

"How did you survive?" his mother's quiet voice eventually asked. "I mean, the Killing Curse… No one survived it…"

"I'm the only one to survive this curse," Harry informed his mother. "But it was your doing. You died to save me. Your love protected me, at least that's what Dumbledore told me. But I believe him. You could have given me up and save your own life, but you didn't. That saved my life."

"I could never give you up, Harry. None of you. I would willingly give my life to save you," Lily told him sincerely. "Thank you, Harry…For having been honest with us… This must have been hard for you… But who took you in? Sirius? Or was he…"

Lily trailed off, when she saw her son shaking his head. Harry looked at her and then at his father, who was still breathing harder than normal, but was otherwise regarding him calmly. "Hagrid arrived at the ruins of the house. He met Sirius there. Sirius… he had already found me in the rubble and was ready to take me to his home, but Hagrid had orders from Albus, to take me to Privet Drive…"

"No!" Lily cried outraged, but Harry acted as if he hadn't heard her.

"Because your love saved my life, mum, I would be safe as long as I could call the place where your blood dwelled my home. Seeing as aunt Petunia was my only living relative from your side, Albus placed me with her."

"But Sirius is your godfather," James argued. "It was his right to take you in, to raise you. The Dursleys! I can't believe it! It is explicitly stated in our will that you were to live with Sirius if something happened to us."

"Sirius… he…" Harry hesitated, but then decided that he couldn't keep this from them. It was too important. And sooner or later he would tell them anyway. "People thought that he was your Secret Keeper. Even Albus and Remus. They didn't know that you switched at the last moment… Sirius was the most obvious choice. He insisted on switching…"

"What happened, Harry?" his father asked him, his voice slowly beginning to sound dangerous. "Who betrayed us?"

"_Wormtail!_" Harry spat, unable to keep the hatred and anger from his voice. "You made him Secret Keeper instead of Sirius. He sold you to his Lord. Sirius knew this and after he had given me to Hagrid, went after him. To make a long story short, Sirius confronted him, but Peter made a show in front of a lot of Muggles, accusing Sirius of killing you. Then he blew up the street, killing twelve of the Muggles in the process, cut off his finger and disappeared in the sewers. Sirius was sent to Azkaban without trial."

"Peter?" Lily asked surprised, but James just exploded.

"I'm going to kill that rat!"

"James, please," Lily begged, putting a comforting hand on his arm and gently pulling him down to sit on the armrest next to her. "Let Harry finish his story first."

Harry wanted to laugh. His story. This wasn't a story, this was his life. "Sirius escaped twelve years later, because he found out that Wormail was posing as pet rat to Ron. Everyone thought he came after me. I found out about everything at the end of my third year, but Sirius was still a fugitive and Wormtail had escaped. The rest of his life, Sirius was either on the run or locked up at Grimmauld Place. He died two years later. Bellatrix killed him."

James closed his eyes, swallowing hard. Harry couldn't imagine what one must feel after first being told that they were to die and then that their best friend would die as well, while a third friend would turn traitor. "What about Remus?"

"He's alive," Harry told them, immediately seeing the relief on their faces. "And he's involved with a certain Nymphadora Tonks."

"Tonksie? Sirius' cousin?" James suddenly laughed out loud. "Remus and little Tonksie? She's down for Hogwarts for next year, isn't she?"

"I believe so…" Lily answered, also with a small smile on her face.

"This is unbelievable! The old wolf!"

Harry finally allowed a small smile on his face, glad that his parents had taken all this bad news as well as they had. But maybe, maybe it would just take some time for everything to sink in. He was sure that it wasn't easy for someone to hear that they were going to die about ten months from now. Or maybe they were taking this as well as they were, because they could now prepare themselves. However, Harry was sure of one thing. As long as he was still living in this time, he would do everything in his power to protect his parents. If he managed to take down Voldemort as well while he was at it, all the better.

"Harry?" The young wizard looked up, when his father called his name. James had his hand extended to him and Harry took it, allowing himself to be pulled up and right into a strong and manly hug from his father. "I'm sorry you had to go through all this by yourself. But don't worry, this time I won't let Voldemort kill me. This time, I'll make the right choices. We'll find a way out of this."

"Your father is right," Lily agreed, smiling comfortingly. "We'll find a way."

James let go off him, but only a second later he was in his mother arms, burying his face in her shoulder, even though she was a few inches shorter than him. As she stroked through his wild hair, the dam that had been holding all his emotions for the last few months finally crumbled. First one, then another tear escaped his eyes and soon his shoulders were shaking with sobs.

His parents knew the truth. They knew that he had never really known them, that he had no real memories of them. And he somehow felt as if they planned to make up for all the lost years.

They were right. They would find a way. Voldemort wouldn't get them this time.


	26. Turning Points

**A/N: I'm soooo sorry for this incredibly long delay… Will you believe me, when I tell you that I wanted to have this chapter finished by New Year? cringe But again real life interfered and first now that the winter term at university is over and I have written all my finals, I once again found the time and motivation to write… However, this chapter is again longer, so I hope this will somehow make up for the long wait… But thank you so much for your reviews and your support! You're great!**

**And now, finally on to the story:**

**

* * *

Chapter 26: Turning Points**

It was just past dawn the following morning, when Harry was finally on his way back to the time travellers' common room, feeling completely drained. He had barely slept that night, or, to be completely honest, not at all, even though the Room of Requirement had provided him and his parents with beds, as they had gotten tired.

But it was understandable.

Harry and his parents had talked until almost five o'clock in the morning, when suddenly the first bed had appeared right next to his mother and they had decided that it might be better, if they continued the talk another time. They had covered the most important things anyway. Harry's life at the Dursleys – which Harry had tried to soften as much as possible for his mother's sake – his seven years at Hogwarts, including everything noteworthy that had happened and then later his work as Auror. With his parents' questions, it was no wonder that it had taken that long.

Then, after they had gone to bed for at least a few hours, Harry had lain there in his bed wide-awake and no matter how much he tossed and turned, he hadn't been able to fall asleep. So he had just given up and accepted his fate of another sleepless night, staring at the ceiling of the Room of Requirement, which had, upon his wish, turned into a replica of the ceiling in the Great Hall.

First when the first sunbeams had fallen into the room, Harry had, with a sigh, gotten up, ready to leave his parents a note, but that hadn't been necessary. Obviously, James and Lily had had similar problems like Harry, and used the first light as an excuse to get up. They hadn't exchanged many words on their way to the Entrance Hall, where Harry had wanted to see them off. Harry didn't blame them. They had had some time to think about everything and it was only logical that they now needed some more time to sort through everything before they could talk again. However, they left with the promise that they would see each other again the following day, Christmas Eve, at the Burrow.

"Future's past," Harry mumbled and the portrait swung open. He trudged inside, just wanting to disappear in his own room and at least try to get some sleep, but again, sleep was denied. Ron and Hermione were sitting in the common room, obviously waiting for him, according to the expectant looks that appeared on their faces and the fact that they actually jumped up from their armchairs, when they noticed that he was there. Tired and with dark bags underneath their eyes, they were waiting for him to make the first move. Apparently, they had just gotten as much sleep as he had.

Finally, after just a few seconds, Hermione couldn't contain herself any longer. She ran up to him and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly for a long moment. "How did it go?" she asked softly, as she let go of him again.

Running a hand through his unruly hair, Harry sighed, but there was a small smile on his lips, which obviously appeased his friends somewhat. "Better than expected. I told them everything."

"Everything?" Hermione asked.

Harry simply nodded. "Truly everything. And they took it rather well… But," he suddenly said, hoping to get the attention off him, "what about your parents, Ron?"

Ron shrugged. "Same as yours, I expect. Only mum was a bit emotional, well, a bit more so than usual, but you know her."

"That's good." Harry let out a relieved breath. Somehow it was still surreal to imagine that their parents finally knew. It's been almost five months since the spell had dropped them in this time, five months of keeping secrets, and this was now finally over. He looked at Ron and Hermione and, for the first time in weeks, maybe even months, allowed a truly happy smile on his face.

Returning the smile, Ron stepped up to him and put his arm around his friend's shoulder, pulling him to the couch. "Come on, mate… Sit down. You had a long and rough night."

"But so did you," Harry replied, as they sat down, he and Ron on the couch and Hermione in the armchair across from them. "You not only had to talk to your parents, but I also had to leave you to deal with Dumbledore on your own on top of that. He must've been angry that I just left. It was rather rude."

"Not really," Hermione began, but upon the pointed look Ron threw her, she grinned sheepishly. "Alright, he was a bit angry. But… I think he understood your reasons, even though he would've wanted you to stay and listen to his explanations."

Harry grinned at her mischievously, the loss of the extra weight he had carried since their arrival lightening his mood considerably. "Well, that's what I've got you for, isn't it, 'Mione? It's just like in old times at school."

Ron barked out a laugh, clapping his best friend on the back, while Hermione simply smirked back. "I see… And I guess you now want to see my class notes? Or do you want me to do your homework?"

"Class notes should suffice," the dark haired young man replied with a simple shrug. "Or you could simply tell me what Dumbledore said." Harry truly enjoyed this easy banter with his friends. It was almost like in old times.

"Alright," Hermione said, immediately sitting up straighter and going into what Harry and Ron had dubbed teacher-mode, after Hermione had taken up the position as Transfiguration professor at Hogwarts in their time. "What Dumbledore told us was truly fascinating. This concept of time travel that Lewthwaite and Voldemort used is so simple and complicated at the same time. The complexity of the magic that is evoked is enormous, but how it is done—"

"Hermione," Ron gently interrupted her, with an exaggerated groan and a grin on his face. Harry noticed that he was grinning as well. This was truly Hermione, as she lived and breathed. "As _fascinating_ as this is, but could you please narrow it down to the most important facts?"

The young woman huffed, rolling her eyes and muttering something that sounded suspiciously like '_boys'_ under her breath, before she looked at them pointedly. "I believe the _most important_ fact is that it is possible for us to return home, but I guess Harry already knew this. It's the 'how to get home'-part that needs some explaining. Actually, it is, as I've already said, quite simple. What we need is the spell, a potion and an object, no matter what. It works kind of like a Portkey, just a bit more complicated. The spell is _Reverto_ _Tempus_, and as I've said, we could use any object as Portkey, for the lack of a better word. It's the potion that's troubling us a bit. Some of the ingredients are extremely rare, it's _very_ difficult to brew and it takes six months until it is finished. And we can only use the spell on a new moon's night."

Harry appeared to be lost in thoughts for a moment. Six months was a long time. But actually, it didn't matter. According to the memory they had watched, this spell would take them back to exactly the same moment they had disappeared. They wouldn't lose any time in their present, they would only gain more time in this past. More time that he could use to fulfil the oath he had taken the moment he had found out that their presence wouldn't change anything in their time. He had still six months to kill Voldemort here.

"Who's going to brew this potion?" he asked eventually, looking into her eyes. "You?"

Shaking her head, Hermione answered, "No, it's too difficult. I don't think I can do it…"

"But who then?" Harry asked, slightly confused. Somehow, his exhaustion slowly caught up with him. "Who's better at potions than you and knows about our situation?"

"That would be me," a voice suddenly sounded from one of the doors of the private chambers. Draco was standing there, leaning against the doorframe with his arms lazily crossed over his chest. Despite the early hour, he was already completely dressed and looked as if he had had a full night of sleep, unlike the other three time travellers.

"Of course." Harry gave Draco a challenging smirk. "Do you really think you can do this?"

As response, Harry only got a snort, followed by, "This potion is difficult, but not impossible to brew, Potter. Hermione could do it, if she wanted to, but she thinks that she might make a mistake and ruin it, which I personally highly doubt."

There were two things in Draco's statement that would have confused Harry only few weeks ago. The first one was that Draco had called Hermione by her first name, the second that he praised her abilities as witch. However, even though the praise was small, it seemed to have the desired effect, as a light blush appeared on Hermione's cheeks.

"Whatever…" Draco smirked, when he saw the blush on Hermione's face. He walked over to her and sat down on the armrest, absentmindedly putting his arm around his girlfriend's shoulder. "Have you told him the rest already?"

"The rest?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"Look, mate," Ron began hesitatingly. "You're not going to like this, but Dumbledore asked us to not tell _anyone_ besides our parents about us. He still wants to keep things quiet. This…" the redhead swallowed hard. "This also includes not going after Wormtail."

The moment those words had left Ron's mouth, Harry saw red. "What?" he roared, jumping up from the couch and pacing up and down in front of them like a caged lion. "Why? Tell me one good reason! Just one!"

"He-he didn't give us one," Hermione whispered tentatively. "He just said that he wanted to keep things going as they were, that it would be better this way…"

"And you didn't question him?"

The three other time travellers winced at the deathly calmness in Harry's voice. "It's Dumbledore, mate," Ron tried to calm him. "I'm sure he knows what he's doing."

_This old fool!_ Harry thought angrily. He was doing the same mistakes all over again – only that he hadn't done them yet. Without looking at his friends, Harry turned on his heel and walked out of the common room, ignoring their cries and pleads for him to stay and not do anything stupid.

His feet carried him along the familiar hallways on their own volition. Harry wasn't seeing anything, his mind was a mess of thoughts and emotions. He couldn't believe this! He really couldn't believe this! They could change this time! They could right all the wrongs that had caused so much suffering and pain in their own time! And yet Dumbledore was doing something so incredibly stupid!

In no time he had reached the gargoyle blocking the way to the Headmaster's office. However, before he could even say the password, the gargoyle sprung aside to reveal the spiral staircase leading up to the office. With clenched fists and gritted teeth, Harry climbed the stairs and didn't even bother to knock, before he threw the door open. The anger in him only flared up anew, when he saw Dumbledore sitting behind his desk with a calm look on his face, obviously waiting for him.

"Harry," he said gently. "I've already been expecting you."

"Albus," Harry said outright. "Just tell me, what _the bloody hell_ is going on?"

The Headmaster breathed a quiet sigh and motioned with his hands for Harry to sit down, but the young man didn't react to it at all. "Harry, if you had stayed last night—"

"No! Don't you say that if I had stayed last night things would be different! Don't tell me that you hadn't already made up your mind about further proceedings before we even went into this memory! I've had enough of this!" He slammed his fist on the desk, and lowered his head, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

"Harry, please…"

Shaking his head, Harry tried to get rid of the suspicious moisture in his eyes. He had finally thought that he could do something, but once again, his hands were bound. "We could've done something, Albus. We could've gotten information from Wormtail and then I would've gone out to find Voldemort and kill him in this time once and for all. I can do this, I know it. I've waited too long."

"I know, and I'm sorry it is so hard for you, Harry… I can't imagine how heavy the burden on your shoulders has to be. But you also have to understand my position," Dumbledore tried to explain. "If everything goes according to your plan, you will be gone in about six months. If you haven't defeated our Voldemort by then, or if you fail, and if we captured Wormtail, and your parents didn't switch Secret Keeper, what would happen then? Imagine Voldemort wouldn't be able to find your parents, if he didn't mark you as his equal, who would be able to stop him? Of course, there would still be the Longbottom child, if we didn't hide him as well, but would you wish your fate on another child?"

"No," Harry whispered, defeated, and slumped down in one of the armchairs in front of the desk. "No, I wouldn't want Neville to have to go through the same as I. I just… I just thought that I could save them, my parents, Sirius… I wanted my other self to grow up as a normal child…"

"Which is understandable…"

"Do, do my parents know already?" Harry asked, finally looking up again and into Dumbledore's eyes. There was no twinkle in them.

"I talked to them, right after you said your goodbyes in the Entrance Hall. They just left a couple of minutes before you stormed into my office, actually."

"And how did they take it?"

To his surprise, a quiet chuckle escaped the Headmaster's lips. "Quite surprising actually. I had expected the same reaction you had from your father, with your mother trying to calm him. But the roles were reversed. Your mother yelled at me – I believe the temper of a redhead must have gotten the best of her – and your father just sat next to her, and thought about what I said. In the end, it was him who accepted my reasoning and convinced your mother to do the same."

Harry allowed a grim smile on his face. "This is your final decision? To not do anything?"

"Yes, Harry… And once again, I'm sorry… However, if we receive any information that might help you to vanquish Tom in this time, I will tell you. But we have to keep up appearances, I hope you understand this. The more knowledge about the future we reveal, the more curious Tom will become about you. This is not something I want to risk."

Rising from his chair, Harry turned his eyes away from Dumbledore and instead looked at Fawkes' empty perch. "I'm not happy about this, not at all, but I will abide to your plan, for now. If I see a chance to do something to make this time better, I will take it. And you won't be able to stop me."

"I wouldn't have expected anything less from the man I have gotten to know over the last few months," Dumbledore simply answered. "But you should go back to your rooms now, Harry. You look exhausted. Try to get some sleep… and tell your friends to do the same. You won't have any duties today…"

"Thank you Headmaster," Harry replied with a nod. He went to the door and opened it. However, before he stepped through, he turned back one more time. "Albus… The eavesdropper, it was Wormtail, wasn't it?" The grave look on Dumbledore's face was the only answer Harry needed for this question.

* * *

The rest of the day passed without any more surprises – be it pleasant or unpleasant ones. After Harry had left Dumbledore's office, he had returned to their common room and apologized to his worried friends for his behaviour, before retiring to his room, claiming to be tired. To be completely honest, he hadn't thought that he would be able to fall asleep, with his mind still being the jumbled mess that it had been the whole night and morning, but only a few minutes after he had climbed into his bed, only dressed in a pair of boxers and an old T-shirt, and closed his eyes, he was already sleeping like a log.

Harry first was seen again at dinner in the Great Hall, but no one talked about anything that had transpired within the last twenty-four hours, mostly due to the fact that there were still the other professors and a handful of students present. But for this, Harry was grateful. He was still angry with Dumbledore and didn't feel like talking about this at all.

The next morning, the morning of Christmas Eve, dawned brightly and every one of the time travellers knew what day it was. Tonight they would all have dinner at the Burrow – including Draco, who now didn't have his excuse anymore – which would, knowing Molly Weasley, most likely turn into a huge feast with all of them being at least a few pounds heavier afterwards.

Harry, Hermione and especially Ron were looking forward to this, however, Ron was also slowly getting nervous. He hadn't been at the Burrow yet in this time and this would be the first time that he met his whole family from the past, well, almost whole family. One member was still missing and wouldn't be there for another seven and half months. But it was still exciting enough to make him so nervous that he could only eat a few bites at breakfast and didn't touch his lunch at all.

However, Harry was inwardly grinning like a Cheshire cat, watching his best friend act like that. Even though he was also a bit anxious. His parents knew now that the Weasleys were his surrogate family and they would be there tonight. James and Lily had of course been grateful to hear that their son had some people in his time that he could turn to if he had problems and who saw him as a part of their large family. But what would happen when those two parties met each other again after those startling revelations from the day before? Harry was sure that Ron had also told his parents about their part in Harry's life. He had absolutely no idea how they would act around each other, knowing this.

To distract himself from those worries, Harry instead thought about the news that Molly Weasley wanted to share with them all. He and the others already had a pretty good idea what this was about, but they didn't want to spoil the surprise. Besides, they might still be wrong.

Before they knew it, Harry, Ron, Hermione and a reluctant Draco were standing in Dumbledore's office, each of them with a fistful of Floo powder in their hands. As soon as Ron had scattered the powder in the fire, it turned green and he stepped inside, the colour in his face vaguely resembling the fire. After a clearly articulated, "The Burrow!", Ron was gone and the fire had turned again its normal golden red colour. Hermione and Draco followed after him and Harry was last. But before he left, he looked at the Headmaster and allowed a small forgiving smile on his face. "Merry Christmas." It was Christmas, after all.

Never having been able to step out of the fireplace gracefully after Floo travel, Harry this time also stumbled and nearly fell, if Ron hadn't been there, ready to catch him. Harry gave him a grateful grin and had just enough time to straighten up, before he was already engulfed in a tight embrace. His face was full of red hair, but it was a different shade of red than the Weasley red, so it could only be one person. "Hey mum," he whispered, so that only she could hear it.

"Hey Harry…" She smiled at him, as she let go, but the smile was a sad one. "I'm sorry… I tried to… but…"

"It's okay, I understand…"

They didn't get to say more, because at the next moment all he could see again was red, only this time it was definitely a Weasley. Molly Weasley was hugging him, just like she would be hugging a son, so he had been right with his assumption that Ron had told her about Harry's relationship to their family. This was soon followed by a strong handshake from Arthur, a quick hug from his father and a couple of shy waves from the Weasley children.

Harry couldn't suppress a grin, when he saw the apparently innocent looks on the twins faces, already suspecting that it was just a farce and that they had already, even at their tender age of almost three years, plotted some mischief. Four and a half years old Percy Weasley was standing behind them, glaring at their backs with a suspicious look on his face. Charlie and Bill were lingering near the stairs, having just come down upon hearing that their guests had arrived, and both of them looked a bit uncomfortable at having their teachers in their home. Only the youngest, Ron, didn't seem to be disturbed at all, as he was sitting on the floor with a bottle in his mouth.

"So, that's almost all of our guests, isn't it?" Molly said amiably, as she picked Ron up from the floor and settled him on her hip.

"Almost?" Ron asked confused.

"Yes," his father answered. "We're still expecting one more… Ah, here he is…"

The flames in the fireplaces flared up green again and only a second later a sooty and slightly shabby looking person stepped out. He pulled his wand out of his sleeve and muttered a quick cleaning spell to make the soot disappear. Finally, Harry recognized this person and a huge grin spread over his face. "Remus!"

"Hello everyone," Remus Lupin greeted them friendly. "I hope I'm not late…"

"No, not at all, Remus," Molly Weasley told him and quickly ushered him inside. "The others have just arrived a minute before you… Now, please take off your cloaks all of you. Arthur, Bill, Charlie, take their cloaks!"

Immediately a buzz of activity broke out in the Burrow and soon, after those that stayed over night had been shown their rooms, everyone found themselves seated around the magically enlarged wooden dining table, which was laden with all kinds of delicious food. Harry and the others didn't know where to begin to fill their plates and where to stop, and Harry tried to take a bit of each. While he was waiting for Ron to pass the mashed potatoes, he glanced at his mother and Molly Weasley, who were sitting next to each other. His worries immediately disappeared, as both women were getting along greatly, comparing recipes for the food on the table and talking about raising children. Another glance at their husbands told him that the men were also engaged in a heated discussion, most-likely about – knowing Arthur Weasley – Muggle things.

Dinner passed in a pleasant atmosphere, as even the children warmed up to the strangers – or their professors in Bill's and Charlie's case – and began to talk to them about all sorts of different topics. Soon Harry found himself talking with Draco and Charlie about different Seeker moves and comparing stories of Quidditch matches with them, even though the latter still seemed to be a bit reserved and quiet, while Ron was beginning to joke around with the twins and Hermione talked animatedly with Remus and Bill, with Percy listening to them, acting as if he were already a grown up and at the same time looking over his shoulder every couple of minutes to make sure that his little brothers were still safely occupied. He had never noticed the piece of parchment that had been glued at his back, on which was a child's drawing of a foot, which repeatedly performed a kicking motion, because Hermione had removed it with quick wave of her wand upon seeing it.

All in all, it Harry felt as if he had always belonged to this family – even in this time.

After the feast – yes, it really was a feast, Harry decided, as his black pants were getting slightly tight around his stomach – during which Molly Weasley had insisted that everyone took at least one second helping of everything, they retired into the living room area.

However, before Ron, the twins, Percy and little Harry, who were getting sleepy, were brought to bed, Molly and Arthur rose from the couch they were sitting on and Molly cleared her throat. "Everyone, first of all I want to thank you all for coming tonight. It's been a pleasure to prepare all of this for you."

"We need to thank you, Molly," Remus replied kindly. "Your dinner was fantastic and I believe the others all agree with me on this point."

Murmurs of consent were heard all around the living room, including a satisfied burp from little Ron, which caused some laughter. Molly smiled brightly. "Thank you, again… But actually, Arthur and I wanted to use this special moment to share some exciting news with you." One hand gently grabbed Arthur's and the other rested on her stomach. "I'm pregnant. Around August, there will be another child living and laughing and playing and crying in the Burrow."

Immediately everyone except for Draco jumped up to congratulate the again-parents-to-be. While they were waiting for their turn, Harry, Ron and Hermione grinned at each other knowingly, seeing as they hadn't been that surprised by this news. The grin was still on their faces, as they shook hands with Arthur and hugged Molly, so that Arthur eventually asked them, "Is there something you're not telling us?"

The grin on Ron's face even widened and he winked at his father. "No, nothing at all…"

Of course, after this news, the conversation turned to the yet unborn child. It was a short time later, after the smaller kids had been brought to bed and only the two teenage boys and the adults were left, when James asked, "Have you already decided on a name?"

"Yes, we have," Arthur told him, and the others, proudly. "We have decided to call him Lance."

Ron snorted into his drink, causing the others to look at him curiously. Only Harry, Hermione and Draco tried to look unaffected, which was actually pretty difficult for Harry, as he had a hard time to not burst out laughing.

"Sorry," Ron said, smiling sheepishly, his hand flying to the back of his head. "Swallowed the wrong way."

The others didn't look convinced, but didn't ask further questions, much to Harry's relief. First, when the conversation was once again in full swing and drowning out all the other noises, Harry noticed that Ron was leaning over to him. "_Lance?_" he asked, shaking his head confused. "How did they get from Lance to Ginny?"

Hermione, who had obviously listened to what Ron had said, also inched closer to them, as usual with a perfectly logical explanation at hand. "Lance is a short form of Lancelot, one of the greatest and most trusted knights of King Arthur in the Arthurian legend. As you know Ginny is a nickname derived from her real name Ginevra, which in turn is derived from Guinevere. In the Arthurian legend Guinevere was Arthur's wife, but she was also in a love affair with the knight Lancelot. I guess this is how they got from Lance to Ginny…"

Harry and Ron only shrugged at each other - that made sense, after all – and a short time later, Arthur Weasley was standing in front of them, with a slightly mischievous grin on his face. "Tell me, Ronald," he said, his eyes twinkling similarly to Dumbledore's. "I've never asked before, but did your father teach you how to play chess?"

This immediately got Harry's, Hermione's and especially Ron's attention, who was now looking at his father with an at least equally playful grin on his face, rubbing his hands gleefully. "Of course he did. And he still regrets it."

"He does, doesn't he? Well then, what about a short game between the two of us to see, if what your father has taught you is enough to defeat me."

"Alright," Ron immediately agreed, already getting up from the couch. "Get your chess board and then I'll show you how humiliating it is for people who dare to play against me. You may even have the white pieces."

Arthur chuckled good-naturedly. "Is this a threat?"

"Oh no… It's a promise."

Only a few minutes later, father and son were sitting across from each other in front of a chess board. The black pieces didn't seem to know what to make out of this stranger who appeared to know what he was doing. At first they had given him advice, but quickly noticed that he didn't need it, as he expertly moved his pieces over the chess board with the ease of someone who was a master in his art.

Arthur noticed this as well and Harry saw that the older man was slowly getting nervous, as Ron once again captured one of his white pieces. In the meantime, everyone expect for Draco, who had said that he didn't need to watch a game of which he already knew the outcome and that he'd rather go for a short walk outside to get some fresh air, was gathered around the two players, watching them with rapt attention.

Harry had already been witness to a few of those infamous chess games between Ron and Arthur, and just like all the other times, Ron won in the end, even though it was a close call. He knew that no one could challenge his friend like his own father in this game and that Ron always relished in those games, finally meeting someone who hat the potential to beat him.

Just after the game had ended, Molly, Charlie and Bill disappeared in the kitchen and came back a couple of minutes later with some glasses of eggnog. They were passed around and Harry thanked Charlie with a smile, as the boy put a glass down in front of him. It was already close to midnight and Remus, James and Lily had already announced that they would be leaving soon. The time travellers would have also left around that time, if Molly and Arthur hadn't offered that they could spend the night at the Burrow.

As the clock chimed midnight, Harry raised his glass along with everyone else who was present and wished his family and friends a merry Christmas. However, before he could drink from his glass, he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around. Remus was looking at him with a serious expression on his face, motioning with his head to the door. Harry nodded and put his untouched glass on the table, before he followed the other man outside.

As soon as the door was closed behind them and the noises from inside couldn't reach their ears anymore, Harry asked Remus, "What did you want to talk about?"

Remus cleared his throat uneasily and avoided Harry's gaze. "Lily and James talked to me today and told me about everything that has happened in the last two days. Of course the only thing they were allowed to tell me was that you could return home and that nothing would be changed in your time. Actually, what I wanted to say is that I'm happy for you…"

"Thank you," Harry said softly, even though he was sure that this wasn't the only thing Remus wanted to talk about. And he was proven right, when, after a few minutes of silence, during which Harry had looked around in the darkness and tried to find out if the outside of the Burrow was any different from his time – which it wasn't, as he concluded -, Remus cleared his throat again.

"Harry… In your time… I know I probably shouldn't ask this… But… Am I in your life?"

For a moment Harry thought about this, not knowing if he were allowed to answer that, but in the end decided that this wouldn't hurt. He wouldn't say anything about his parents' fate, Sirius or Wormtail. Remus was only asking about his own life. "Yes," he said eventually. "You are in my life. And you are very important to me."

Remus breathed an audible sigh of relief and ran with his hand through his shaggy hair. "I'm glad… I was really worried, with the war and everything. So much could have happened..."

Harry tried to force a smile on his face. Remus was right. Much had happened.

"What's this? Is the party over already?" a voice suddenly asked, as a dark figure came into view. The light of the lantern outside revealed him to be Draco, back from his walk.

"No, we're just getting some fresh air, just like you did," Harry told him. "You stayed away long. You missed the eggnog."

"Sweet Merlin, no!" Draco cried with fake outrage, but just a second later there was once again his typical smirk on his face. "The only thing that's made this night bearable."

Harry chuckled at the blonde's antics. No matter how hard Draco wanted to convey that he was still the same as he had been in school, he was different now. The proof for this was sitting inside. Hermione would have never begun a relationship with Draco, if he hadn't changed. And Harry himself had been witness to most of those changes in character; after all, Draco was his partner. "Well, maybe Mrs. Weasley still has some left for you."

The two young men exchanged another smirk before Draco disappeared inside again.

"Well, do you also want to go back or do you maybe want to take a walk?" Harry asked.

"I think I'd rather fancy a walk. I want to enjoy it as long as possible," Remus said with a wistful look at the sky. Harry followed his gaze and noticed unhappily that the full moon was close.

"You're right," Harry said smiling, hoping to cheer him up. "It's a beautiful night." And this was true. There was no single cloud to be seen at the sky, which was littered with stars. If Harry tilted his head slightly, he could even find Sirius, the Dog Star. The moon was already shining brightly, even though it wasn't full yet, lighting the landscape around them in an unearthly glow, which was only magnified by the white snow on the ground and on the trees. "Let's make the best of it."

The dark haired man smiled at Remus, who returned the smile gratefully. Side by side they left the house behind and began to walk.

-

Almost one hour had passed, when Harry returned to the house, alone. Remus had taken his leave about half an hour before, claiming that he was really tired and should return home. But Harry hadn't felt yet like going back, so he had wandered around the familiar grounds for a bit longer, lost in thoughts and memories about his happier times at this place.

Rubbing his hands to warm them after being out in the cold for so long, Harry let the door fall shut behind him, as he stepped inside. Much to his surprise, he was greeted with loud laughter; however, it wouldn't have been that surprising if the laughter had come from anyone but Draco. But as it was, his partner was standing in the middle of the living room, his face flushed and his hair dishevelled, as he recounted one tale or another from his days at Hogwarts – Harry thought that it was from Hogwarts, because he believed to have heard the names Crabbe and Goyle – for everyone to hear, almost doubling over in laughter, as he reached a punch line that only seemed to exist for him, before he launched right into another tale.

With a raised eyebrow, Harry joined his friends again and sat down on the couch on his old spot. Looking at the table, he saw his glass standing there, but it was empty. With a sigh, he looked again at Draco, his expression changing from amusement to worry. The Draco he knew never acted like that. Leaning over to Hermione, who was also staring at the scene in front of her with wide disbelieving eyes, he whispered, "Did Draco drink my eggnog?" When Hermione simply nodded, he continued, "And how many more glasses did he drink after that?"

"Not one," Ron answered instead of Hermione, as he slumped down on Harry's other side. "That's the curious thing. He simply drowned your drink and then got more and more…"

"Crazy?" Harry suggested, when Draco suddenly pulled Molly Weasley up from the armchair she was sitting in and whirled her around as if they were dancing to a tune that only he could hear.

"That's enough," Hermione suddenly muttered and got up. She determinedly strode up to Draco and grabbed his hand, suddenly having a sweet smile on her face. "Draco, I think it's time for us to go to bed, don't you think so?"

"Bed you say?" he replied, eyeing her with a look in his eyes that Harry didn't really like. Draco's grey eyes were stormy and roaming her body as if he'd wanted to devour it.

"Yes, bed," Hermione repeated and gently, but resolutely pulled him along to the staircase. Draco was resisting a bit, apparently not at all eager to retire already, and Harry just wanted to help Hermione, when Draco suddenly began to stumble, as he reached the first step. "Guys?" she called exasperatedly, as she desperately tried to keep her boyfriend upright.

Shrugging, Ron and Harry joined her, each on one of Draco's sides, and put his arms over their shoulders. "Come on, Draco," Harry muttered. "Let's get you to bed." With combined forces, the two young men managed to hoist a by now half asleep Draco up the stairs and into the room that had been prepared for him. They tried to drop him on his bed as gently as possible, which succeeded only partly. Harry winced, as Draco's head almost hit the bedpost, but the blonde didn't notice anything anymore. He was completely out of it.

"Thank you, guys," Hermione murmured, her cheeks slightly red with embarrassment.

"You're welcome, 'Mione," Harry told her and Ron nodded. "But please don't be too hard on him in the morning. Maybe he had just needed one night like this."

"Maybe," Hermione repeated quietly, gently stroking a strand of white blond hair out of Draco's face. He murmured something incomprehensible and turned around, burrowing his face in the pillow. Sighing, she forced a smile on her face. "I think I'll also head to bed now…"

"Alright," Ron said. "You know where your room is, don't you?"

"Don't worry, Ron," Hermione chuckled. "I think I can find the room where I've spent most of my summers during school. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, 'Mione," they chorused, as Hermione climbed the stairs to her room and Ron and Harry went back downstairs, where the others were still waiting.

As they arrived there, Harry saw that his parents were again dressed in their cloaks and that his other self was peacefully sleeping in his mother's arms. "You're leaving?" he asked them, having to suppress a yawn.

"Yeah," his father answered. "It's been a long day and night. Actually, it's been those last few days that are slowly taking their toll. And it's Christmas now, another exciting day. Sirius, Remus and… Peter will be coming over and we will celebrate together."

"That's nice," Harry played along, even though he cringed inwardly. He couldn't imagine how his parents would feel, having Peter over, knowing what he was and what he would do, that he would, in the end, kill them. "Then, have a good trip home and a nice day tomorrow."

"I'm sure we will," Lily said, as she hugged him to say goodbye. "You're so strong," she whispered into his ear, before she let go and eventually said louder, "Merry Christmas, to all of you. We will see each other again soon, I hope."

After Lily and James had said goodbye to everyone, they left via Floo and Harry and the Weasleys decided that they would also turn in. There was no doubt that the children would be up early the next morning to open the presents Father Christmas had brought them, and they wanted to be at least somewhat awake for this event.

So, after a quick goodnight, each of them retired to their rooms – Harry and Ron sharing, much to their surprise, the room that Molly and Arthur had added to be little Ron's room. They joked a bit about this, while they were changing, how they would always end up in this room in the end and that it looked so different now with the light blue walls, when they were so used to the glaring orange colour of their time.

When they were lying in their beds – two cots about which Molly Weasley had made a big fuss, when she had shown them this room, forcing the two young men to calm her down and say that they wouldn't mind sleeping on them – Ron extinguished the candle. Soon Ron's snores filled the room and a short time later, Harry was also already fast asleep.

* * *

The following morning, Harry was roughly woken up, when the door to their room was thrown open. He blinked a few times and shook his head, trying to get rid of the remains of sleep still clinging to his consciousness. He felt as if he had just gone to bed a few minutes ago, but the sun shining into the room told him otherwise. It was already well past dawn. It was a wonder that the kids had let them sleep that long.

"'Mione? Whazz goin'on?" Ron muttered groggily, sitting up in his bed.

First now Harry looked to the door and saw that it was really Hermione standing there. But she looked terrible. Her face was incredibly pale and her eyes were wide, filled with tears. Immediately, he was wide awake and out of bed, his wand in his hand. "'Mione?"

"It's… it's Draco," she cried, finally allowing the tears to fall. "He won't wake up. And he's burning up!"


	27. The new Potions Master

**A/N: Well, I know that I shouldn't even apologize anymore… However, I hope you all know how real life can be, so I won't make excuses. Just remember that, no matter how long it takes, I will continue to update this story. I will never abandon it, I promise!**

**I also want to thank all of you for your nice and encouraging reviews! That's what keeps an author going! And I hope that I can keep up the apparently good work, so that you won't hex me! **

**And now, on to the new chapter!**

**

* * *

Chapter 27: The new Potions Master**

This was not how he had imagined spending Christmas, Harry thought, as he was pacing restlessly in front of the closed door of the hospital wing – up and down, up and down, every so often throwing a quick glance at Hermione and Ron, who were sitting on a bench at the wall across from the door. Hermione was nervously wringing her hands – she had stopped crying a while ago and was now lost in thoughts -, while Ron seemed to be doing his best to comfort her, with a steady hand on her shoulder.

Harry wished he could do something, _anything_, but he was helpless. While Madam Pomfrey was slaving away inside this room, trying to find out what had happened to Draco, they were forced to wait outside. Half an hour had already passed since they had brought him back to Hogwarts, not more than forty minutes since Hermione had been standing in their room with a tear-streamed face. And Draco still hadn't woken up, as far as they knew.

Just as Hermione had said, he had been burning up, his face pale, even paler than he normally was, and bathed in cold sweat. Harry had once again tried to wake him, yelling at him, shaking him, even slapping him, but without success. He and Ron had only exchanged one look, before hoisting Draco up with combined strength and bringing him back to Hogwarts.

Thirty-five minutes. Harry looked up from his watch and to the closed door. He honestly didn't know, if it was a good or bad sign that Madam Pomfrey still hadn't come out to give them any information on Draco's state of health. Up and down, up and down. Harry clenched his fists. Without news from Madam Pomfrey, without knowing what was wrong with Draco, he didn't know what to do. Was he simply sick, or was this the result of some extraneous influence? Had he been cursed, while he had been outside, or was it something else entirely?

Up and down, up and down. If Harry didn't know better, he was sure that he would walk a hole in the ground, when Madam Pomfrey didn't come out soon.

However, as soon as this thought crossed his mind, the door to the hospital wing opened and Madam Pomfrey appeared in the doorway. Harry immediately stopped and Hermione and Ron stood up and came to stand next to him. The look on Madam Pomfrey's face didn't look promising.

"How is he?" Hermione asked with a small quivering voice.

The matron looked up and down the floor and eventually beckoned them to come inside. Once he had stepped through the door, Harry's eyes immediately landed on Draco's still form on the far side of the hospital wing. Hermione seemed to have seen him as well, because she immediately stormed up to the bed and sat down on the chair next to it. Harry, Ron and Madam Pomfrey followed her at a slower pace, and Harry noticed again how pale Draco was – his skin was almost as white as the sheets on the bed.

Once they were all gathered around the bed, the matron said, "Albus will be down here shortly. I would like to wait with my explanations until he is here."

"No need to wait, Poppy," Dumbledore's voice suddenly sounded from the door, as he swiftly made his way up to them. His eyes shone with worry, as he calmly regarded the unconscious young man on the bed. "What did you find out?"

Madam Pomfrey looked at all of them in turn, and in the end her gaze rested on Harry. "I'm sure you'll be glad to hear that I've stabilized Mr. Draconis. For now. His fever is still incredibly high, but I've managed to stop it before it could rise further – however, on the other hand, it won't break, no matter what I try. I've checked his body for all known illnesses and have found none. But I have found something else in his blood and seeing as we don't know what has induced this state, I'd like to send a sample to St. Mungo's for further analyzing."

"No!" Harry snapped, feeling panic rise within him. But he immediately felt sorry for this afterwards and muttered a quick apology. "This isn't a good idea," he added quietly. She couldn't send a sample of Draco's blood to St. Mungo's, it was too risky. If the hospital somehow already had a sample of the other Draco's blood and found out that two samples of apparently two different persons – one a grown man, the other a baby – were completely identical, their true identities could be revealed. No, no matter what happened, they couldn't risk it.

"Care to explain, why not, Mr. Potter?" Madam Pomfrey asked curtly, her voice cold. Harry knew that voice only too well. It meant that whoever was trying to oppose her treating a patient was going to suffer for it. Much. And yet, Harry was at a loss of words, trying to come up with a suitable excuse.

"Maybe I should explain this, Poppy," Dumbledore said gently, giving Harry a quick glance to tell him that he would handle this. "As you are most-likely aware, Mr. Draconis is a bearer of the Dark Mark, Voldemort's mark." Harry ignored the matron's obvious hiss, as she heard this name, too interested in what kind of story Dumbledore was going to fabricate. "But what you don't know is that he has contacted me, because he wanted to quit. To make a long story short, Mr. Draconis has been taught all his life the beliefs of a Death Eater, but when he had experienced what this truly meant, he couldn't take it. He is now under my protection, with a fake name. Nobody else knows this, except for his friends, and I ask you that you won't tell anyone. It's imperative for our new colleagues' lives that no one knows this. Mr. Draconis and his friends already have a bad enough standing as it is, so it won't do them any good, if the public found out about this."

Harry's eyes met Dumbledore's and he nodded subtly, even though he knew that Draco wouldn't like being portrayed like that. However, he couldn't change it and it was necessary. As long as Draco survived and their identities weren't endangered, Harry didn't care what stories Dumbledore concocted.

But still, Madam Pomfrey didn't look very convinced. Harry glanced at Ron, but the redhead only shrugged helplessly. He looked at Hermione out of the corners of his eyes, but he didn't want to burden her with this, even though she might actually be the one to come up with some persuasive arguments.

However, someone had to say or do something, because Harry knew that Pomfrey sometimes didn't even listen to Dumbledore, if it somehow interfered with her patients' wellbeing. Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind – this might be it! "Madam Pomfrey," Harry began carefully, "I know that in your position as Healer the health of your patient must be your first priority. But, just as Professor Dumbledore already said, it is imperative for not just Draco's wellbeing, but also for ours, that his true identity remains a secret. If his true identity somehow gets out into the open, we might all die. Seeing as we, Draco's friends, are in the know about anything that he has heard and seen during his time as Death Eater, all of us are prime targets. Voldemort might even come and do the honour of killing us himself."

Harry could see the slight widening of the matron's eyes and he knew he almost had her. One more nudge into the right direction and she would be convinced to let them do it their way.

"Besides, I know that you're one of the best in your profession – I admit, I truly admire that you've given up a promising career at St. Mungo's to come to Hogwarts and help children. Not many people would do something like this. This devotion to your job and your abilities convinced me to trust you fully. I just know that you will find out what is wrong with our friend and cure him."

"And I will help you."

Harry's head whirled around and he found himself gazing into Hermione's determined eyes. She took a deep breath and got up from the chair next to Draco's bed, straightening her clothes. Her hair and clothes were still a mess, just hurriedly thrown over before heading to Hogwarts, and yet Harry could again the see professional air with which she was carrying herself right now. He should have known it – Hermione's way of dealing with a problem was to tackle it head-on, not accepting '_No' _as answer and doing everything in her might to solve it.

"Mrs. Granger," Madam Pomfrey said, "I appreciate your willingness, but as far as I know, you're no trained Healer and I'm not quite sure how you could help me…"

Hermione simply looked at her with a challenging look on her face. "I've received eight _Outstandings_ in my N.E.W.T.s and one _Exceeds Expectations._ I would say I'm more than qualified to help you, at least with your research concerning my boyfriend's condition. I _will_ help you, whether you like it or not." To reaffirm her statement, she went to stand directly between Harry and Ron and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

At that moment, Harry felt slightly sorry for Madam Pomfrey. The poor woman kept looking from Dumbledore, to the three of them, to her patient and then again at Dumbledore. She was truly cornered, with no way out. Eventually her shoulders slumped and she heaved a defeated sigh. "Alright, I won't send a sample of Mr. Draconis' blood to St. Mungo's and I won't tell anyone of this condition. I truly hope, Miss Granger, that you're as good as you say you are, because after my first examination, I'd say that, to save your boyfriend, we might need a miracle."

The young woman nodded with grim determination and Harry put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it slightly to reassure her. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed that Ron had done the same and they exchanged a look over her head. It went without saying that they would do whatever they could to help her and to help Draco.

Harry threw another glance to the pale young man. He was still unconscious, too pale and yet his cheeks too flushed and his forehead bathed in sweat. Clenching his other fist he swore under his breath. Whoever did this, whoever was responsible for this, they were going to pay. No one who hurt his friends would get away with it. He wouldn't show any mercy.

* * *

"How is she?" Ron asked wearily from behind a pile of books, as Harry came out of Hermione's room.

"Asleep," Harry answered, as he slumped down in his armchair. There was also a book lying in front of him, opened in the middle. He put the red thread between the pages and shut the book, the title reading '_1001 cures for 1001 illnesses'_. Then he grabbed his mug filled with already cold black coffee, grimacing at the bitter taste of this liquid, as he swallowed. He sighed, as he put the now empty mug back on the table, right next to another mug, Hermione's. The one in which they had slipped some Dreamless Sleep without her knowing.

She would be furious come morning, but it was for the best. She had barely slept that night, first getting to bed late and then waking up to find Draco like this. She would have pulled several all-nighters in a row, if they hadn't done this, Harry was sure of this, so he and Ron had agreed that they would force her to get at least a full night of uninterrupted sleep, especially after this day. And they would do it again, even though Harry was sure that from now on, Hermione would check both her meals and her beverages for potions.

It was already half past seven, they had missed lunch and dinner in the Great Hall, but thanks to Dumbledore's understanding, they didn't need to be present and a house elf would provide them with everything they needed. The only times they had left their common room had been the few times they had gone to the library to get even more heaps of books about all possible topics, searching through them for anything that might at least help them to find out just _what_ was wrong with Draco. Information about illnesses, of both Muggle and wizarding origin, curses, poisons and just Merlin knew what were discarded after one of them had once again gone through a book without success.

Hermione had gotten a sample of Draco's blood, which she had run through several tests, and she had agreed with Madam Pomfrey that there really was something in his blood that might cause those symptoms. Only, they had still not the slightest idea what it was they had found, even though Hermione was often found kneeling on the floor in front of the fireplace and conversing with Madam Pomfrey through the internal Floo Network of Hogwarts.

In the end, she was even more worked up and burned out than during their third year or before their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, so that Harry and Ron decided during one of Hermione's trips to the library to ask Madam Pomfrey for some Dreamless Sleep Potion. The Healer had readily agreed, saying that even though Hermione was brilliant, she wouldn't be of much use, if she didn't sleep.

"That's good," Ron mumbled, rubbing his eyes, as he leaned back in the armchair and closed his book. His blue eyes were bloodshot from the lack of sleep and reading the whole day. "So, what do we do now?"

Harry looked up and his eyes wandered to one of the windows. It was long dark outside, so that he could see the nearly full moon and the sparkling stars at the completely cloudless sky. He had to admit, he was also dead tired and could fall asleep then and there. But they couldn't let Hermione down. "We can't stop yet." Especially not after they had slipped her that sleeping draught. "Let's continue, at least a bit longer."

Ron sighed, but nonetheless leaned over to get another book from the somehow never shrinking pile. "For Hermione," he murmured, as he opened the book and began to scan the pages for anything that might at least lead to a possible cure.

Nodding, Harry also opened his book again, but didn't even get to read the first paragraph of that page, because suddenly someone knocked at the portrait. The two young men exchanged a confused look and after a shrug from Ron, telling him that he didn't expect anyone, Harry rose from the armchair and walked over and opened their portrait. He was surprised to find, not only his parents with his little self in his mother's arms, but also Molly and Arthur standing in front of their common room. "What are you doing here?" Harry asked them, wide-eyed.

"We heard," his father simply answered. "May we come in?"

"Of course." Harry stepped aside to allow their guests entrance. In the meantime Ron had also gotten up from his seat and looked at them with an equally surprised look on his face. As soon as the portrait was closed again, Harry gave them expectant looks. "So, I guess Dumbledore called you then?"

His mother shook her head. "No… After Sirius, Remus and… Peter were gone, I Floo-called Molly to see, if we might come over or if you were already back at Hogwarts."

"Exactly, and I told her then that you already left this morning because of your friend," Molly explained.

"And then I called Albus and he gave me a quick overview of the current situation," Lily finished. "So, how is he?"

"Not good," Harry told her. "His fever is still too high and he's still unconscious. We simply have no idea what is wrong with him – even Madam Pomfrey is at a loss of what to do besides researching."

"That's terrible," Molly gasped. "How's dear Hermione taking it? Where is she anyway?"

"Asleep." A deep sigh escaped Harry's lips, as he ran with his left hand through his unruly black mop of hair. "Why don't we all sit down? We don't need to talk about this standing around like this."

As soon as they all had settled down around the table, with little Harry lying in a crib that had previously been shrunken, Harry and Ron began with their explanation about everything that had happened since they had been woken up that morning by Hermione's appearance in their room. Their parents were shocked to say the least, and just as clueless as they were. However, they immediately began again to analyze every little detail about the past night, looking just for the tiniest sign.

"Do you think something happened on that walk he took?" Arthur mused, the look on his face thoughtful.

"We've already been talking about this," Harry told them, "but unfortunately the only person who could tell us _if_ anything has happened on that walk is unconscious and can't tell us one _bloody_ thing!" Harry balled his fist and let it crash on the table. His nails were digging into his palm and his breath had quickened. This was just so frustrating! How could they find a cure, when they didn't even know _what_ to look for!

Suddenly, he felt a smaller hand covering his fist and another gently squeezing his shoulder. It was his mother, who was giving him a comforting smile. Much to his astonishment, he immediately began to relax. But he also felt his heart grow heavier at this touch, because it was this that he had missed the most during his childhood. The soothing touches of a mother, the smiles that somehow always manage to lift a child's heart. All the things he had never known.

"I'm sorry…" Harry apologised, shaking his head slightly and letting some strands of hair that had come loose from the leather cord in the base of his neck, fall into his face. "I guess I'm just tired…"

"Don't worry, Harry," James simply said, with an understanding look on his face. "Maybe we should all just get some sleep. It's really getting late and those last few days…" He shook his head as well. "They've truly taken their toll on us all."

"James is right," Molly agreed with her no-nonsense voice. "After a full night of sleep the situation will already look completely different. Come on, Arthur, let's go home so that the boys can go to bed. Goodnight everyone."

Ron stood to see his parents to the portrait, where his mother hugged him tightly and his father took his leave with a firm grip on his son's hand. He returned to his armchair after the Weasleys were gone.

"I guess we should go as well," James said, as he got up. Lily followed shortly after and gathered the sleeping boy in her arms, while her husband was again shrinking the crib and stowing it away in one of the pockets of his robes. "Dumbledore kindly offered us _our _old guest quarters to use for the night. So we'll be back first thing in the morning to help you with your research."

Harry just wanted to open his mouth to say that they didn't have to help them, but his mother seemed to have read his mind.

"No, Harry, but we want to. They're your family, and therewith by extension also our family. We can't let family down and we'll help you as good and as long as we can."

"Thank you," Harry breathed, feeling that a bit of the newly added weight on his shoulders seemed to lift. It was in moments like these that he didn't know what he had been thinking, when he had decided after fifth year that he could deal with all of this alone. It was his friends and his family that had kept him going for so long.

After Lily and James were gone, Harry and Ron looked at each other and both nodded at the same time. It was no use to continue now. In their current sleep deprived states it was very likely that they missed something. After a short '_Goodnight'_ they disappeared in their bedrooms, both well aware that the forth one was empty.

* * *

"Harry Potter! Ronald Weasley! I'm going to kill you!"

Both young men winced remarkably, earning pitying looks from Lily and James, who were sitting across from them at the table, each of them with a thick tome in front of them. Harry and Ron looked at each other and braced themselves for the yelling that was about to ensue the moment Hermione came out of her room.

"How dare you!" Hermione screamed, as she came storming out of her room. She was still wearing the clothes from the previous day and her hair had almost completely returned to its frizzy and bushy state. "How dare you do this to me!" Her voice was quivering and her balled fists shaking with anger, as she stopped in front of them. Ron and Harry had both gotten up, ready to accept their punishment. But they were surprised, when they saw the first tear fall down her face, followed by another and yet another. "I could have found something! I could have used the time, the whole night, to keep looking. We don't know, what's wrong with Draco, or how long he still has…"

Harry took a hesitant step forward and put a calming hand on her shoulder. Hermione stared at him with tears streaming down her face, and then, just a second later, she was burying her face in the crook of his neck, sobbing loudly. "Hush," Harry mumbled, putting his arms around his friend and pulling her close. "It'll be alright. Ron and I have done more research last night and got up extra early this morning to continue. Mum and dad have also started to help."

"But…" Hermione mumbled against Harry's shirt.

"No but, 'Mione," Ron told her, "you needed the rest. Look at it this way – now you're rested and full of energy. All those books will never know what hit them."

This caused a small chuckle to escape from Hermione's throat and she gently stepped out of Harry's embrace, giving him and Ron a small and shaky, but brave smile. "I'm sorry," she apologised, wiping the remaining tears away with the sleeve of her blouse. "You're right…"

"Come on, Hermione," Lily urged her softly, putting a hand on her arm. "Let's get you cleaned up and then you should eat something. And while we're gone, the boys will keep looking." While she was gently leading Hermione back to her room, she gave the three men a pointed look, upon which they immediately returned to the books that were lying in front of them, just waiting to be researched.

Hermione and Lily came back about half an hour later. Harry was just putting another useless book on the steadily growing pile as he heard the door. He looked around and smiled at Hermione – she was looking a lot better now, dressed in new clothes – jeans and a comfortable sweater – and had her washed hair pulled back into a thick braid. She was holding her head high and came up to them with a confidence in her steps that belied once again her determination to win this fight. Without even hesitating or saying anything, she sat down on an empty chair at the table, only giving Harry and Ron reassuring smiles, before she grabbed the nearest book and opened it.

"I will go to the kitchens and get us something to eat," Lily told them, as she passed the table. "Any special wishes or cravings?" As they shook their heads, Lily simply shrugged and left the common room.

However, it didn't take long for her to come back, but without food. Instead, she was holding a crumbled newspaper in her hands, looking furious. As the newspaper was thrown on the table, the four young people crowded around it started. They didn't even need to ask what was wrong, as they could all read the heading of the main article on the first side.

_**Hogwarts Professor with dubious past fighting against death**_

_The current Potions Professor at Hogwarts, Eirian Draconis, known as Draco among his friends, has been taken to Hogwarts' hospital wing the previous morning, after he has been found unconscious in his bed, burning with fever. The healer, Madam Pomfrey, of the school doesn't know the reason for this sudden illness, even after several tests. However, instead of admitting a blood sample of her patient to St. Mungo's, Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Draconis's friends convinced her otherwise. He is apparently under Professor Dumbledore's protection, after having left the Death Eaters, living and teaching at Hogwarts with a fake identity. The author of this article wonders, who this mysterious teacher really is. Is he dangerous? Is he maybe even a spy, only claiming to have renounced the ways of He-who-must-not-be-named? The only thing the author knows for sure is that the young man is currently fighting for his life._

_Please read for further discussions page 4, 5 and 9._

_R. Montgomery_

"This can't be," Harry mumbled in disbelief. Just how the hell did this Montgomery-guy once again get the information, and such accurate one on top of that?

Harry looked to his side and saw that Hermione's eyes were again watery, so he quickly reached out and put his hand over hers. Ron seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because his hand was suddenly lying on her shoulder. In the meantime, James seized the paper and read the article, before quickly crumbling it and throwing the newspaper into the burning fire. "I hate that woman!" he growled.

"What?" Hermione's head whirled around to him, her eyes wide. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing important," James shrugged, apparently not wanting to upset her further. "I just said that I hate that Montgomery cow."

Harry looked at Hermione and thought that he saw some sudden understanding in her eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had come and she was already shaking her head and returning back to her book. Ron, Harry and his parents only exchanged one last glance before giving the books in front of them their full attention. The story Dumbledore had fed Madam Pomfrey was now out in the open, but it didn't matter. Right now only one thing mattered - Draco.

* * *

The following days passed in a similar manner. The three time travellers would get up early in the morning and, after a quick breakfast, immediately continue to research. Sometime in the morning, Lily and James and sometimes even Molly and Arthur joined them in their quest. But they were still without success – not one of those books they had perused until now had had any information they might find useful. It almost seemed as if the illness or whatever it was didn't exist.

However, they knew that they needed to find something soon. While Draco's state of health hadn't gotten worse, it also hadn't gotten better. He hadn't woken up once, his fever neither breaking nor rising. Hermione had taken to gather a huge pile of books everyday and go to the hospital wing, to keep Draco company and to try to find a cure at the same time. Everyone was worried for him and the day after tomorrow the new term would start, without, seemingly, a teacher for Potions.

* * *

"_You were lucky," Harry hissed, surveying the almost empty dark room in front of him. Only one person was present, kneeling in front of him, clad in black robes and a white mask covering their face. The hood of the person was lowered, revealing black greasy hair that hung limply down past the Death Eater's shoulders. "That you still achieved your goal, even though you got the wrong person."_

"_I know, my Lord," a male voice replied._

"_However, I won't accept any more of your blunders. Your new position is extremely important for me. I need you to gather as much information as inconspicuously as possible. Remember," he added, a cruel smirk gracing his lips, "the old fool may never know."_

"_I understand my Lord."_

"_Do you really? Well, let's just give you a reminder of what will not only happen to _you_, should you fail. Crucio!"_

_The man began to scream, writhing on the ground. His head started to hurt, to burn, as if it split open and he wanted nothing more than to scream along with him._

Harry woke up, bathed in sweat and his scar hurting like hell. Closing his eyes again, he took deep breaths, trying to calm his thumping heart, and put the cool back of his hand against his forehead. He lay there like this for a few minutes, until he felt it safe to get up. His legs felt like jelly, as he staggered into the bathroom. Leaning heavily with one had against the sink, he opened the tap and let the cold water stream down the basin. A look into the mirror told him that he didn't just feel like shit, but also looked like shit. The dark circles underneath his eyes and the red scar were a stark contrast to his pale skin. He had completely forgotten which effect the Cruciatus usually had on him, when he was trapped in a vision.

After having washed his face thoroughly with the nearly freezing water, Harry went back to bed and closed his eyes. Needless to say he didn't get much more sleep that night.

* * *

Harry was woken up the following morning by loud pounding on his door. It was Ron, telling him to get up. "We just got a message from Dumbledore," he called through the door. "There's a staff meeting scheduled in thirty minutes."

Sighing, Harry told him that he was up and went into the bathroom for a quick shower, hoping that he would look better and more awake than he felt afterwards. Ron and Hermione were already waiting for him – Lily and James had not arrived yet – and together they went through the still nearly deserted halls of Hogwarts to the staffroom. They were the last ones to arrive and sat down in their regular seats. Harry noticed at once Hermione's pained look, as her gaze landed on Draco's empty chair.

"Welcome, my dear colleagues, to this sudden and unscheduled staff meeting," Dumbledore greeted them, once everyone was seated. "I'm sure you wonder, what this is all about, so I won't beat around the bush. This meeting is about the situation concerning Professor Draconis. As his state is unchanged, I was forced to take measures to ensure our students' Potions classes in the future. To do this, I've hired an old student of our school, a true master in the area of potion making. Dear colleagues, I would like you all to welcome our temporary Potions teacher."

The door to the staffroom was opened and none other than Severus Snape strode inside, his robes billowing behind him.


	28. Harry's Scheme

**A/N: Hi again! I tried to get this chapter out before DH was released, but now I'm one day late. However, I just think that the book is really great! I've actually cried at some scenes and laughed really hard at others. Deathly Hallows is in my opinion a worthy end for the Harry Potter Series, even though I still don't want to believe that it is all over! When I finished it yesterday, I thought at first that it was a really brilliant fanfiction, but then I realized that it was really the end, that it was really JKR's work, I've just read. But I think that Harry will live on in one way or another in his fandom!**

**And to make this happen, I worked hard to get this chapter out today! Enjoy!**

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Harry tried to keep his face blank, as his whole body tensed upon Severus Snape's entrance. Even though he had somehow already expected this – it was the most logical choice after all, especially after Albus had promised Snape that he would be informed, if an open spot met his requirements - it still came as a shock. Harry tried to catch Dumbledore's eye, but the older wizard didn't seem to notice it, as his twinkling eyes were focused on the new professor. Giving up, Harry glanced to his left, where Ron was sitting, also incredible tense and with a deep scowl on his face, and then to his right to Hermione, who had a slight frown creasing her forehead, before his gaze rested again on Snape.

Severus Snape had changed from the last time Harry had seen him here at school. Instead of being tied back, his black hair was now greasy and hanging limply past his shoulders. This wouldn't have worried Harry much - after all, Draco had complained more than once that he had to wash his hair usually twice a day, because the fumes from potion brewing tended to do this to the hair – if it hadn't been for the look in Snape's eyes. All signs of warmth had disappeared, replaced by the cold and bitter look he was used to from his own time.

"I'm sure most of you still know him from his days as student, but for those of you, who don't know him, this is Severus Snape. He has graduated from Hogwarts about seven years ago and has since then achieved his Mastery in the field of Potions and spent most of his time afterwards developing potions and working on research for several wizarding companies all over the world," Albus Dumbledore told them, after everyone had gotten the chance to take a good look at their new colleague. "However, in addition to his new position as professor for Potions, Severus will also take the position as Head of Slytherin House, at least until Eirian is well enough to start working again."

Quiet murmur broke out among the teachers; apparently none of them had known that the situation with Draco was really that serious that they might need a temporary replacement. Harry's gaze was still lingering on Snape, who, even though his face and posture betrayed nothing, still emanated some insecurities. It was the way he was just standing there, slightly behind Dumbledore, with his arms crossed over his chest, and trying not to sneer at them. Everyone who didn't know him as well as Harry did, wouldn't notice this, but Harry had spent enough time in this man's presence to know, when he wasn't feeling comfortable.

Harry let out an almost inaudible sigh, as he suddenly got up from his chair and walked up to Snape. He could feel his friends' surprised looks burning into his back and skilfully evaded Dumbledore's twinkling eyes, as he stopped in front of the other wizard and extended his hand. "We have met before, I believe," Harry said to him, "but we haven't been properly introduced yet. I'm Harry Potter and I'm teaching Defence."

Snape was regarding Harry's hand suspiciously, while Harry was introducing himself, before he eventually shook it. "Severus Snape."

They gripped their hands tightly, staring directly into the other's eyes, and immediately Harry felt the slight probing of his mind. It was subtle, yet strong, and Harry had to resist flinching, as he strengthened his Occlumency shields. They fought a quiet battle for a few seconds, until Snape suddenly retreated and sneered at him. Harry, however, simply held his gaze, though he was aware of the curious stares from his colleagues.

Harry and Snape let go of each others hands and immediately after, the other teachers jumped up to greet their new colleague. Harry fell back, standing between his friends, who were looking at him with worried expressions on their faces. Shaking his head, he tried to tell them that he wouldn't talk about it now. Instead he motioned at them to go forwards, urging them to greet Snape, because it would be too suspicious, if they didn't. Fortunately Hermione caught on to his signs and tugged at Ron's sleeve, so that he would follow her.

The rest of this staff meeting passed relatively quickly. After Snape had been welcomed by everyone, the teachers returned to their seats in the staffroom. Seeing as the only empty chair was the one next to Hermione, Draco's, Snape had to sit there. Harry would have rather liked to have him sit somewhere across from him, so that he could keep an eye on him. Sequences from the vision he had had the previous night shot through his head. It was obvious that Snape was here on Voldemort's orders; the only question was – what exactly did Voldemort want?

A few more formalities were talked about, about what exactly Snape had to do as Head of House and about the curriculum and lessons plans of the different years in Potions. Harry was surprised to see, how organized Draco had been with his plans – everything was completely mapped out, every single lesson until the end of the second term. Somehow Harry couldn't quite believe that it was possible to stick to this plan, but apparently it somehow worked. Finally, about one and a half hour after it had begun, Dumbledore closed the meeting.

Slowly, one after another, the professors filed out of the staffroom, with Harry and Snape being the last ones to leave. Once again, Harry felt a slight prickle in the back of his head, but this time, he allowed one short message to seep through his shields. _Tonight, __10pm__, Potions classroom._ Snape faltered slightly in his steps, the only sign for Harry that he had gotten the message, while Harry himself went on without hesitating once. Now he could only hope that Snape would be there.

Ron and Hermione were waiting for him around the next corner and looking at him curiously. However, he still just shook his head. "Let's go to our common room," he told them, not wanting to be overheard here in the corridor with what he wanted to tell them. His two friends exchanged a questioning look, but didn't say anything, as they returned to their room.

"So, what is it, Harry?" Ron asked immediately after the portrait had closed behind them. "What was this about?"

Harry was still standing with his back to them, as Ron asked the question, but he turned around to answer. "I suspect that Snape has got something to do with whatever has happened to Draco and that he's here at Hogwarts on Voldemort's orders." To be completely honest, he was a bit taken aback that neither Ron nor Hermione seemed to be surprised by his suspicion.

"I thought as much," Hermione admitted quietly with a grim look on her face. Harry hadn't seen her smile since Christmas Eve. However, since the first day, she hadn't cried either. "It would be too much of a coincidence that at the same time that Draco was attacked and Dumbledore needed a temporary replacement, Snape would be ready, almost waiting for this chance."

"Now we only need to find out, what he did to Draco," Ron added.

"And that's what I'm going to do tonight," Harry said, stepping up to them. "When he tried to get into my head, when we left the staffroom, I let him see a message. I'm going to meet him at 10 o'clock tonight in his classroom. Alone."

Ron's brows furrowed, as he looked at Harry worriedly. "Are you sure that is wise?"

"Don't worry, I'll be careful." He reassuringly clasped his best friend's shoulder, before he turned to Hermione. "'Mione, I promise, one way or another, I'm going to find out, what he did to Draco. And then we can help him."

Hermione's eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she nodded resolutely. "I know you will, Harry. Thank you."

* * *

The rest of the day couldn't pass quickly enough for Harry and yet he was surprised, when the alarm clock he had set himself for tonight went off at quarter to ten that night. Lily and James had stayed at home that day, because Sirius and Remus had wanted to come over, but they had promised that they would still keep researching, once the two other Marauders were gone. So Harry, Ron and Hermione had spent most of the day cooped up in their common room, again discarding one book after another without finding anything useful.

Harry only hoped that his meeting with Snape would help them.

Having _borrowed_ the Marauders Map from Draco's office a few days prior, Harry was pleased to see that Snape was already waiting in his classroom, when he arrived at that door. He quickly stored the map in one of the pockets of his cloak and rapped at the door once before opening it and stepping inside.

Snape whirled around with an angry glare on his face. "What's the meaning of this, Potter?" he hissed.

After having made sure that the door was closed behind him, Harry descended the stairs until he was only standing a few feet away from the new Potions Master. Deciding that it would be better to not beat around the bush, Harry simply said, "I know that you're involved in my friend's illness."

"I see," Snape sneered. "Tell me, Mr. Potter, what makes you think that I might have anything to do with whatever has happened to my predecessor?"

Harry didn't answer. Instead he took a step forward and before Snape could even react, grabbed his left forearm with one hand and pulled the sleeve of the black shirt up with his other hand. There, clearly visible on the pale skin was the Dark Mark. He was met with little resistance, as Snape was too shocked by this sudden move to react at once. However, when he eventually did, Harry let the arm go without a fight, satisfied with what he had seen.

But Snape was livid. He pulled his wand out of its hiding place, but Harry was quicker. With a wandless and non-verbal _Expelliarmus, _he was holding the wand in his hands just a second before Snape could throw the first spell. "What's the meaning of this, Potter?" he repeated with a snarl, taking a step back, as he found himself defenceless.

"Voldemort sent you here," Harry told him. "It was on his order that you, one way or another, poisoned Eirian, or should I rather say, tried to poison me? I know you originally applied for the Defence post, so why should you suddenly be satisfied with Potions? But Voldemort doesn't care, which post you command, as long as you're at Hogwarts to spy for him. How am I doing so far?"

"The Headmaster will know about this," Snape threatened.

Motioning with his hand to the door, Harry said, "Tell him, if he doesn't know already. I wouldn't be surprised, if he did. I won't tell him about your alliance, however. But I warn you, Snape – Eirian is one of my friends, and if he dies, you'll pay." Harry took a step forward, noticing that even though he flinched, Snape didn't move one more step, and handed Snape his wand, while giving him a piercing look. "Think about it, Snape. If you help us to save Eirian, I will also help you and those you care for."

Without saying another word, Harry turned on his heels and left the Potions classroom.

But once he had left the dungeons, Harry didn't go straight back to their common room. Instead he veered off his regular path and walked through the frosty hallways to the Entrance Hall and outside to the grounds. He didn't feel like going back already. He needed to think.

The doors weren't even fully closed again behind him, when Harry had already his packet of cigarettes and lighter in his hand. He inhaled deeply and grey smoke rose up in the air, when he exhaled again. His nerves, previously strung up and ready to burst, finally relaxed.

It hadn't been much, what he had just done, but he hoped it would be enough to get Snape to think about his current position. Harry had never found out, why Snape had changed sides, but something must have triggered it. Because no matter what some people still said about him, Harry knew that Snape was on their side.

At least now, Harry knew due to the lack of denial on Snape's side that the new professor indeed had something to do with Draco's condition. At least now, Harry and his friends could exclude curses during their research. It really was most likely a poison, and, he thought with a thinking stomach, it was even more likely that it was a poison that Snape had developed on his own, meaning that no one but the Potions Master self knew what the antidote was.

Apparently they had only one hope for Draco's survival and this hope was called Severus Snape.

Harry returned to their common room four cigarettes and half an hour later. Naturally, Ron and Hermione were still awake, bent over heavy tomes. Upon hearing the portrait open, both of their questioning gazes landed on him. Harry sat down on his chair with a sigh and told them everything about his meeting with Snape and his conclusion.

"Even if Snape is the only one who knows the antidote, I still won't give up," Hermione eventually told them with grim determination once Harry was finished. "I simply can't accept that there should be nothing we could do, other than waiting for Snape to decide if he wants to change sides."

"You're right, 'Mione," Ron said, putting an arm around her shoulder. "If there's someone who could figure out what kind of poison Snape used, it's you. And then you will also find the antidote."

Gazing into the fire, Harry wanted to share Ron's enthusiasm, but somehow found that he couldn't. Severus Snape was one of the most brilliant Potion Masters in this century and not even Hermione would be able to hold a candle to him.

* * *

The following day the students returned from their Christmas vacation and as they entered the Great Hall, many curious gazes immediately wandered to the staff table. They had obviously also read the article in the _Prophet_ and were now either checking if their professor was still ill or if there was a substitute. Whispers broke out, when the students spotted Snape and Harry had to suppress a sigh, as Snape kept glaring at everyone who dared to look at him for more than two seconds. He already felt sorry for the students who had Potions early the next morning.

After dinner, Dumbledore rose from his seat and clapped once into his hands to get the attention of the students. The reaction was almost instantaneous, as suddenly every single boy and girl was looking up at them. But Harry didn't listen to whatever Dumbledore said. He already knew what he was going to say anyway, as they had talked about it this morning. Albus would confirm the rumour that their previous Potions professor was treated in the Hospital Wing and that his condition was stable but serious. And then he would present Snape as substitute until Professor Draconis could take up his post as teacher again.

There were mixed reactions among the students, when Snape was introduced – some clapped politely, others with more enthusiasm, others not at all. But excited and nervous talk broke out, when they were sent off to their common rooms and soon after, Harry, Ron and Hermione rose from their chairs to return to their common room as well.

Dumbledore, however, had other ideas. "Harry," he said. "Do you mind, if we have a word in my office?"

After having quickly exchanged a look with his friends, Harry simply shrugged. "I don't mind." He was a bit disconcerted that the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes was a bit subdued and that he didn't talk, as they were walking to Dumbledore's office. But he guessed he already knew what the Headmaster wanted to talk to him about – his clandestine meeting with Snape the previous night.

Once they had reached the office, both of them sat down, Dumbledore behind his desk and Harry on a comfortable chair across from him. The seriousness of the situation was even more strengthened by the absence of Dumbledore's offer of a sherbet lemon. "I believe you know why I asked you to talk to me?"

"I guess it's about my meeting Snape last night, isn't it?" Harry answered to Dumbledore's question.

Dumbledore nodded, gazing at him over his half-moon spectacles. "I hope you are aware of the consequences your actions of the previous night might have."

"Albus," Harry sighed, "I know we haven't seen directly eye to eye during the last few days, but I ask you to trust me on this. I'm nearly one hundred percent sure that Snape has poisoned Draco on Voldemort's orders. How he did it is not important right now, but I know that to save Draco, we need Snape. Hermione doesn't want to believe it, but I think that this poison is one of Snape's own concoctions and that only he knows how to brew the antidote. We need him to cooperate."

"And how do you think your actions from last night would help you achieve this?"

"He knows now that I know what he is, a Death Eater. And that I know that he's behind this. Still, I don't force him to do anything. Instead I simply offered my help, in case he decided to help us."

"If I may ask, how do you want to help him? Or rather, what do you want to help him with?" Dumbledore asked with just a little bit of curiosity in his voice.

Harry looked at him, straight into his eyes. He had already expected this question and knew what to answer. "Don't ask me how I know this, because I won't tell you, but Voldemort threatens Snape's family. If Snape decides to help us, I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that his family is safe."

"I see," Dumbledore simply replied and took a deep breath. "All right. I'll let you have free reign over this situation, as long as it doesn't get out of control. Severus Snape is a highly intelligent man and a powerful wizard. I don't think I have to ask you not to underestimate him."

"Of course not," Harry answered sincerely. "But to be completely honest, Snape has changed sides in our time. No one but you and Snape know the reason for this, but if I may guess, I'd say his wife and children might have played an important role in his decision to become a spy for the Order."

* * *

The next few days passed nearly in a blur. With the start of classes, Harry and his friends didn't have much time anymore to do research on Draco's condition. However, while Harry had lost almost all hope to find something since deducing Snape's role in the whole affair, and even Ron admitted that it was even harder than looking for a needle in a haystack, Hermione was still spending every free minute hovering over one of the books. Harry had even discovered her sleeping at the table in their common room more than once.

Harry and Ron still helped her of course, but every day at mealtimes or during staff meetings, Harry glanced at Snape in the hope to find that something had changed. In vain. The only thing Snape ever did was something Harry was more than used to, so the glares didn't affect him as Snape would like them to. Still, Harry knew that they were slowly running out of time. Only Snape knew how long Draco would stay like this until it got worse, _if_ it got worse.

Naturally, the three of them also had to endure questions from the student body. Apparently, all of them were worried about their Potions professor, but the only thing Harry and his friends could answer them was what Dumbledore had already told them on their first day back – that Professor Draconis' condition was serious but stable.

Before they knew it, the first week of the second term was over, and then the second and the third. Soon more than a month had passed since Christmas. By now, Hermione had taken to bring the books she wanted to read and reread with her into the Hospital Wing, so that she could spend more time at Draco's side, while still doing research. When she had noticed how much time had already passed since Christmas and how often she had visited him for longer than just a few minutes, she had immediately felt guilty. It was since then that she went directly to the Hospital Wing after classes to prepare her lessons and look for something, anything that might help Draco.

Harry, also feeling remorse about his lack of visits, had decided to check on Draco and Hermione at least once a day. Still, after each time, he felt the frustration build up in him. Every time nothing had changed since his last visit. Draco was still lying on his bed in the back of the Hospital Wing, his skin almost as pale as the sheets, unmoving, still unconscious. And Hermione was also beginning to look worse for wear. Harry and Ron had to make sure that she ate something, but she still lost weight. There were dark rings under her eyes and the eyes were bloodshot. All in all, she didn't look much better than Draco.

Every day the trio had the same unchanged routine. Getting up, going to their classes, returning to their common room – or in Hermione's case to the Hospital Wing – preparing lessons and researching. It was tedious and wearing work, especially seeing as it all seemed to be for nothing.

However, this all should change, as Harry noticed, when one morning in the beginning of March the door to his Defence classroom was suddenly opened and a first year Gryffindor stumbled inside, completely out of breath. "Professor Potter, Sir!"

"What is it?" Harry asked, as his heart began to beat faster. "Is something wrong?"

"Madam… Madam Pomfrey sent me… I was just there, because I had missed a trick step and stumbled… and she told me that… that you should come to the Hospital Wing… right now…"

_No!_ Harry thought, already imagining the worst. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he eventually said, "Class dismissed. Mr. Haines, please accompany Mr. Vaughan back to your common room. He will be excused from his other classes today."

As soon as the last student had filed out of the classroom, Harry left it as well. With a quick wave of his wand the door was locked and a note was pinned to it, telling the students that classes on that day were cancelled, and then he was already hurrying through the empty hallways until he finally reached the Hospital Wing. Harry didn't even pause to catch his breath and just threw the door open, ready to deal with whatever he might see there.

But as soon as his gaze landed on Draco's bed, he stopped dead in his tracks, not believing his eyes. He could only stare in shock at Draco, who was sitting up in the bed and, though still looking pale, engaged in a discussion with Hermione. They both looked up, as they heard him, however, and Draco had a quite amused smirk on his face.

"Cat got your tongue, Potter?"

"You're awake…" Harry mumbled stupidly, as he blinked. "How…?"

"We don't know," Hermione told him with a happy smile on her face. "I've just arrived here a few minutes before you and Draco was just explaining…"

Exactly at this moment, the door to the Hospital Wing burst open again. All three of them turned to the door, only to hear Ron exclaim, "Bloody hell!"

"My thoughts exactly, mate," Harry chuckled, as Ron came up to them. "Don't get us wrong, Draco… But we didn't expect you to wake up like this."

"So Hermione told me," Draco replied. "I just woke up about an hour ago and asked myself just what the bloody hell I was doing in the Hospital Wing. I couldn't believe it, when Hermione told me that it's March already."

"So… you're feeling okay?" Harry asked him.

"Still a bit peaky and tired, but otherwise fine, yeah," Draco answered.

"But still not well enough to have so many visitors at once," Madam Pomfrey, who just came out of her office, interjected. "In a few minutes the only person I want to see here is Miss Granger."

A pensive frown creased Harry's forehead. Could it be that Snape had somehow slipped Draco the antidote last night? "Madam Pomfrey, if Eirian is feeling up to it, I'd like me and Ron to stay a bit longer. There's much we have to talk about."

The matron gave Draco a scrutinizing look, before she eventually sniffed and answered, "All right. You've got an hour. I'll be in the greenhouses, should there be any problems."

Once Madam Pomfrey was gone, Harry finally asked, "Do you remember what happened at Christmas?"

Draco answered with a shake of his head. "Not much after I returned from my walk. And Hermione told me that I started to act strange then. More than two months… I can't believe it. Who has taken over my classes?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged a quick glance, before Hermione eventually said, "Dumbledore hired a substitute in your absence. It's… Snape."

"I see... He's still a Death Eater, isn't he? What else has happened, while I was… indisposed."

Harry, Ron and Hermione spent the next hour explaining everything that had happened during the previous two months and Harry also explained about his theory that Snape might have poisoned him. Draco agreed that it was a likely possibility. Not long into their explanation, Dumbledore arrived. He, just like the rest of them, was surprised to see Draco up and about and he had a few questions.

Much too soon, the hour was up and though many questions were still open, Madam Pomfrey, who had arrived right on time, shooed them out of the Hospital Wing. Just as she had said, only Hermione was allowed to stay. But neither Harry nor Ron returned to their duties that day. Instead they found themselves in the common room, talking about this surprising turn of events and waiting for lunch.

In the Great Hall, Harry was once again observing Snape, although he was looking for something slightly different now. He was looking for any sign from the professor that he now wanted Harry's help. But he couldn't detect anything. The frown on his face returned. Something wasn't quite right. So after lunch, Harry intercepted Snape in front of an empty classroom and motioned to him to go inside.

"And again I ask you, Mr. Potter, what's the meaning of this?" Snape sounded rather impatient.

"I'm not sure if you've heard, but Professor Draconis woke up this morning. According to Madam Pomfrey, he's in a much better condition than last night, and I wanted to thank you. You obviously gave him an antidote, and I'm wondering now, why you don't ask me to fulfil my part of the offer."

A sneer spread over Snape's lips and his dark eyes glinted cruelly. "Your deductive skills, Mr. Potter, are thoroughly amazing and yet at the same time completely pathetic. I've got nothing to do with the _miraculous_ recovery of Mr. Draconis. Maybe," he said, as he walked past a surprised Harry, "you should learn that not all things are as they seem."

* * *

Harry didn't tell his friends about his second meeting with Snape and they didn't question him, when he once again began to get lost in his thoughts, pondering about what the Potions Master had said. Harry had even almost forgotten to inform his parents about this sudden development. Both of them were happy, of course, though James was also a bit suspicious. He still wasn't too fond of Snape, no matter what Harry had told him about the Snape in their time.

They paid Draco another visit that night before dinner and then again the following day after classes. As usual, Hermione was already there when Harry and Ron – who was doing this a bit grudgingly – arrived that evening, and she and Draco were laughing about something. It was somehow weird for Harry to see Draco with a genuine smile on his face – something that apparently only occurred, when he was alone with Hermione, because as soon as he noticed that they were there, the smile was replaced by his trademark smirk.

"You're just coming at the right time," Draco told them. "Hermione was just about to finally tell me, why I always lose so much money in our bets about the Quidditch Cup."

Hermione, who was also already looking a lot better than just two days ago, shook her head with a soft smile on her face. "Honestly, Draco… Did you really think that I'd become Head of Gryffindor in our time without researching how the Quidditch matches in the last fifty years ended?"

"Blimey!" Ron gasped astounded.

"For once, I agree with you, Weasley," Draco smirked. "Who would've thought that a Gryffindor cheated like a—"

Whatever Draco wanted to say, he didn't get to finish his sentence, as suddenly an agonized look crossed his face and just a second later, a terrible scream erupted from his throat. He flung himself back onto the mattress with flailing limbs, as if he had a seizure. Hermione jumped back with a startled cry, as Draco's back arched and another pained scream escaped his lips.

Madam Pomfrey was immediately at their side, roughly shoving a shocked Hermione behind her to get a good look at her patient. She wove her wand above him in intricate patterns, and soon pearls of sweat were appearing on her forehead. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, get Miss Granger out of here. I need space to work on my patient. I'll Floo-call your room, when I know more."

Harry looked at Hermione and saw the silent tears that were running down her cheeks. He and Ron only nodded at each other, before the redhead walked up to her and put a gentle arm around her shoulder, to lead her away. Hermione resisted at first, but after a few soft urging words from Ron, Harry saw her nod eventually and they left the Hospital Wing.

The wait in their common room was excruciatingly long. Hermione was simply sitting in her armchair with an unopened book lying in front of her. Her knees were drawn up to her chin, as she was staring expectantly into the fire. None of them said a word. They didn't need to, because there was nothing to say.

Finally Madam Pomfrey's head appeared in the fire. Her face was flushed and she looked as if she were in a hurry. "It's bad," she told them. "If we don't find an antidote this night, I don't think he'll survive." And then she was already gone again.

A sob burst from Hermione, but tears didn't fall. Instead she just got up, sat down at the table and opened a book. Even though they knew that it was probably hopeless, Harry and Ron joined her. _Not all things are as they seem._ Those words haunted Harry. He was now pretty sure that Snape meant this. Draco hadn't recovered from the poison, no, it was just its regular process, giving the victim a day or two of respite before ending his life.

It was already dark outside and soon after staring at those tiny letters in the book in front of him, Harry felt a creeping headache coming. He rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes, barely aware that the sounds of pages being turned or quiet sniffs melted into the background. Until he suddenly found himself standing in a completely different room.

_It was a dark and dank room, with only one window at the wall. The only light came from a chandelier at the ceiling, but this light was not enough to chase away the darkness that lurked in the corners. Next to a rickety bed at one wall, a wooden table in front of the window and a dark green carpet on the floor the room was empty. There were no tapestries or paintings at the stonewalls. No one would willingly live in this room, and yet, it wasn't unoccupied._

_In front of him a blond woman was huddling, clutching two smaller bundles tightly against her chest. She was trembling, but as she looked up, she was doing it with rebelliously blazing blue eyes. Harry recognized her immediately, even though her ashblond hair was a tangled mess and her face streaked with dirt and tears. It was Clara, Snape's wife._

_"Mum…" a small voice whispered and Harry laughed. One of the small bundles seemed to shrink against the woman, shaking violently._

_"Hush, Jocy… It'll be alright… Daddy'll come and save us…"_

_"Really touching, dear Clara," Harry hissed, raising his hand, in which pale long fingers he held his wand. "But didn't your parents tell you to tell no lies? Severus won't save you. He has betrayed you."_

_"No!" she yelled fiercely. "Severus would never betray me! He loves me!"_

_Harry shook his head with an amused smirk on his face. "Such loyalty. It's a pity, really… Don't you know that this pathetic feeling you call _love_ will only bring you pain? Crucio!"_

_The woman screamed and at the same moment another wail could be heard, coming from the second bundle. It was a baby, only a few months old. The girl in Clara's other arm whimpered, crying silently for her father._

_Harry lowered his wand, giving the family a short moment of respite, before he cast another Cruciatus, indulging in the screams of the woman and the cries of the children. He laughed._

"Harry, mate! Wake up!"

Harry's head jerked upwards, the pain in his scar nearly unbearable. He jumped up from the chair, stumbling a few steps and blindly reaching for something to support him. When his hand finally grasped the backrest of an armchair, Harry tried to take deep breath, keeping his eyes closed and concentrated on his Occlumency shields. Soon the throbbing in his forehead subsided and he opened his eyes again, turning to his friends with a shaky and hopefully reassuring smile.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked worriedly.

"'m alright," Harry gasped. Yes, he was okay, but someone else wasn't. While he was here in his cosy common room, Clara and her children were being tortured. He had to do something! He couldn't just sit back and not do anything! Snape's family was about to die! Yes, Harry was sure that Voldemort would kill them. He had the room directly in front of his inner eye, he could visualize everything he needed to know to…

Whirling around, he waved his hand and opened the door to his bedroom. A second later, his Thunderbolt flew right into his outstretched and he turned to his friends.

"Harry?" Ron whispered.

"Ron, Hermione, please listen closely and don't ask questions. I don't have much time," Harry told them urgently. "Ron, you go to Dumbledore. Tell him to come to the Hospital Wing and to lower the wards around it by 20, no, make that 30 percent. Hermione, you go and get Snape. Come to the Hospital Wing as well. I'll meet you there."

"Harry! What are you doing?" Hermione asked shrilly.

He gave his friend a lopsided grin. "Giving in to my saving-people thing."

With another wave of his hand the tall window of their common room burst open and Harry mounted his broom.

"Hurry!" he told his friends, before he pushed off the ground and raced out of the window.


	29. Answers

**A/N: I'm so sorry! I know I really left you hanging, especially since the end of the last chapter was really mean. I tried to get this chapter out before my cycle tour (my friend and I travelled exactly 926km from Konstanz** **to Koblenz, always along the Rhine. It was really fun!), but it didn't work out. However, here it is finally! I thank you all for your reviews and your patience! **

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Harry was lying flat on his broom, as he raced across the dark grounds of Hogwarts with neck-breaking speed, urging the broom to its limits. In the end, it took just about a minute until he reached the gates and passed through the wards. Immediately after feeling the shimmering magic of the wards pass, he lowered his broomstick into a steep dive, and jumped off the Thunderbolt the moment he was close enough to the ground. Breaking his fall by rolling in the grass, he watched as his broom disappeared in a bush, but he didn't have time to worry about what might happen to it. Harry quickly got to his feet, already picturing the room from his vision in his mind, and spun around on the spot.

Harry had never liked Apparating, this feeling of being pressed through a tube, but sometimes it was simply necessary, just like at that very moment. At the same moment as his surroundings had changed from the landscape around Hogwarts to the stonewalled room from his vision, he had just enough time to wave his hand to let the wooden chair fly into the path of a red jet of light.

Clara and the girl in her arms screamed, as splintered wood was flying everywhere, but Harry didn't hesitate to step in front of them, his wand raised and his eyes narrowed at Voldemort. The red eyes of the Dark Lord focused on him with a calm that was almost unnerving. He was obviously surprised by the young man's unexpected arrival, if the slight narrowing of his forehead indicated anything, and angry at being disturbed, but he apparently didn't let this get to him.

Harry really had to congratulate him on his poker face, but he knew that the look on his face wasn't much different, as he regarded Voldemort calmly, his whole body poised and ready to hurl any spell he might need. "Hello Tom," he greeted him, his lips curled with a smirk. "I've been _dying _to meet you."

"You're that Potter-boy," Voldemort stated, his red eyes now regarding him curiously, as the hissing sound escaped his lips. Parseltongue.

The smirk on Harry's face widened a bit. So Voldemort had gotten his message from Halloween. Instead of answering with the same hissing, however, Harry retorted in normal English, "Well, if your definition of a 21-year-old is boy, then yes, that's me. Nice to meet you, Tom."

Voldemort snarled upon hearing this name, the name of his father, and raised his wand again. "I won't even ask, how you found this place, seeing as you always seem to be good for a surprise, as I've heard. However, you should be aware of one thing, Mr. Potter - coming here was foolish, because you won't leave this place alive."

"Really?" Harry replied, not once breaking the gaze of the other wizard, his wand still at the ready. He felt a slight push at his Occlumency shields, which quickly retreated upon noticing that they were impossible to break. Harry tried to think of what to do now, because when he had woken from that vision, knowing that he had to save them, thinking about the _how_ had been far from his mind, when suddenly one thought shot through his mind--

This was his chance! Lord Voldemort was right in front of him, having no idea what he, Harry Potter, was capable of – what he was destined to do! He could use the element of surprise to fulfil the prophecy and vanquish the Dark Lord once and for all. _This_ was his chance to change the future of the people living in this time!

His right hand was completely tense, his mind a whirl of thoughts. All kinds of spells shot through his head. Harry had discovered during his research and training in all those years that there were many other deadly spells than just the Killing Curse. And it was hard to choose one. A part of him wanted Voldemort to see the same green light with which he had killed so many people, another part of him wanted Voldemort to suffer before he died. There were so many options. He was able to perform every single one of those other curses, but deep inside Harry knew too that he would also be able to cast the Unforgivable…

Suddenly a quiet whimper behind him pulled him out of his thoughts. Readjusting his body lightly, he saw out of the corner of his eyes the small girl clinging to her mother and Clara staring up at him with a mixture of hope and fear in her eyes. Immediately he remembered the reason why he had come here in the first place… Gritting his teeth, he focused again completely on his opponent. If he started a fight with Voldemort now, Clara and the children might get caught in the crossfire… _Damn_!

"What's wrong, Mr. Potter? Did you finally realize your mistake?" Voldemort mocked him with a twisted smile. If Harry hadn't used Occlumency at that moment, he was sure he would feel the triumph surging through Voldemort.

However, Harry only smiled at him regretfully. "Actually, no… I've only just realized that I have to cut our meeting short. But don't worry, we'll meet again. _Expelliarmus!_"

Apparently Voldemort hadn't expected Harry to be on the offensive, especially with this spell. He almost lost the grip on his wand, but while he was fighting not to lose it, Harry had already whirled around to the young woman and the two children. As quickly and gently as possible, he gathered the girl in his arms and pulled Clara, who was still holding the baby tightly to her chest, to her feet.

"Hold on tightly," he told her.

But just as he wanted to Disapparate, he had to change his plan. With a flick of his wand he let the table jump in front of him to bear the brunt of a green jet of light – the Killing Curse. It exploded in thousands of tiny splinters, showering him, Clara and the children. To protect them from the splinters, he had turned his back to Voldemort, but he was moving already, ready to dodge another curse that might be flying in their direction. He jumped to the side, pulling Snape's family along with him, careful to not hurt the children.

Cursing under his breath, Harry winced, as a larger shard buried itself in his right shoulder. He quickly whirled around and, ignoring the sharp pain in his shoulder, slashed his wand through the air. Voldemort blocked the purple jet of light, immediately firing another curse at Harry, who dropped to the ground to evade the red beam. Wandlessly casting a shield charm directly in front of them, Harry quickly got back on his feet and raised his wand again. His hand was shaking slightly.

"You won't stop us," Harry said as coolly as he could. His shoulder hurt like hell, the pain spreading already as far as his fingertips, and he could already feel something moist and warm running down the length of his arm. Blood. He knew that they needed to leave very soon, or else they might never leave this place. But he needed a plan and to form a plan, he needed to keep Voldemort talking. Fortunately, Harry thought, suppressing a wry grin, that was one of Voldemort's big weaknesses – he really liked to hear himself talk.

Voldemort laughed, a cold and cruel sound that still sent shivers down Harry's back. He would never get used to it. "Mr. Potter," he sneered, shaking his head mockingly. "Haven't I told you that coming here was foolish? Do you now see the mistake you made? I _will_ kill lovely Clara and her brats and you'll be lucky, if I simply kill you as well… I'm sure that some of my loyal servants would really like to get to know you personally. However, Mr. Potter, I'm feeling a bit gracious at the moment, gracious to offer you one way out. The only way out."

"Which would be?" Harry snapped, regarding his surroundings out of the corners of his eyes, when he suddenly remembered something from his vision. That was their chance!

"You are a powerful wizard, Mr. Potter. Bow to me and become one of my own… Receive my mark and stand in my ranks, when I bring on the fall of the wizarding world as you know it. I might even consider not killing your friends…"

"Never!" Harry snarled. At the same moment, an orange light shot from the tip of his wand, catching the Dark Lord unawares. A quick grin appeared on Harry's face, as Lord Voldemort was attacked by flying bogeys, but he used this moment to point his wand at the ceiling, where the chandelier hung. "_Reducto!_" he shouted and the powerful spell brought not just the chandelier down on Voldemort, but also a good part of the ceiling. Not wasting any time to regard his handiwork, Harry quickly turned around, once again grabbed the small girl and Clara with the baby and spun around, disappearing with a loud _crack_.

A split second after they were gone, a jet of green light hit the ground where they had just been moments before, and a cry of pure rage echoed through the room.

-

Never before in his life had Harry Apparated with so many persons at once. The feeling of being squeezed through a tube seemed even more suffocating and when he met the resistance of the wards, Harry almost thought that they wouldn't make it. And they wouldn't have, if they hadn't been lowered as much as Harry had requested. With gritted teeth he let his magic lash out and pressed forward until, with the loudest _crack_ he had ever heard when someone Apparated, they landed on the floor of the Hospital Wing, falling to their knees at once. Harry had to grit his teeth to keep from crying out in pain and slowly got up again with Clara and Jocelyn still clinging to him.

"Bloody hell, Harry!"

Ron's startled yell let his head whirl around, where three pairs of eyes were resting on them. Ron, Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey were looking at him with shocked expressions on their faces, obviously alerted by the incredible loud sound of Apparating. Harry could only imagine, what they looked like. Exhausted, dirty and maybe even bloody.

"Hi guys," he greeted them with a wry grin. "I'm home."

However, before anyone could say more, the door to the Hospital Wing slammed open and a furious Severus Snape strode inside, followed by a frazzled looking Hermione. He didn't seem to notice them, because he was purposefully walking up to Albus Dumbledore. "Headmaster, what--?"

"Severus?" a quiet, trembling voice asked. Harry let go of Clara, as she took a shaking step forward. At the same moment, Snape turned around, finally spotting them. His eyes widened in obvious disbelief. "Oh Severus!" A sob escaped her lips, as she quickly crossed the distance between her and Snape and fell into his arms.

"Clara?" Snape looked down at her and the surprisingly quiet baby in her arms, and then at Harry, bewildered.

Upon hearing her father's voice, the little girl, who had buried her face in Harry's shirt, turned around. "Daddy!" she cried, as Harry set her back on the ground, and ran up to Snape.

"Jocy," he breathed, kneeling down with his wife to embrace the girl. "How…"

If the situation weren't that serious, Harry would have laughed at seeing Severus Snape at a complete loss for words, probably for the first time in his life. Instead, Harry said with a pointed look, "I rescued them from Voldemort. Now it's your turn."

Their eyes met for a few moments, as if some silent communication passed between them. Eventually Snape simply nodded and, gently loosening the grip his family had on him, got up. "Madam Pomfrey, would you please…" He helped his wife up as well and led her over to the school nurse. But Madam Pomfrey didn't seem to be sure what to do, as she also kept throwing worried glances in Harry's direction.

"I'm fine, Madam Pomfrey," Harry told her, lying through his teeth. "You really should take care of Professor Snape's family. They're a lot worse of than I. I have reason to believe that at least Mrs. Snape has suffered several Cruciatus curses in the course of the past few weeks."

After one last long probing look, Madam Pomfrey helped Clara to sit down on one of the beds, with Jocelyn sitting down directly next to her. Dumbledore gave Harry a questioning look, before he joined the newly reunited family and the school nurse. Harry could only vaguely hear the quiet conversation that took place between the matron and Clara, which paused, as Madam Pomfrey waved her wand over the baby still lying in Clara's arms. A relieved sob echoed through the Hospital Wing and Harry saw that some of the tension left Snape's shoulders, when Madam Pomfrey told them that the baby boy was unharmed and had miraculously slept through the whole ordeal of the last hour.

Snape only seemed to have waited for this announcement, because he threw one more look at Harry and nodded once again, before he walked to the other side of the ward, where Draco was lying on a bed, deathly still. His face paler than ever before. Harry's heart nearly missed a beat and he almost didn't notice Ron and Hermione coming to stand at his side, as he thought that he had been too late. That Draco was already dead. But then he noticed the green blob of light floating over the still body, which still pulsated, if irregularly and weakly, and sighed. He wasn't too late.

"Harry?" Hermione asked worriedly, pulling him out of his thoughts. "What happened?" Apparently she was too distracted by the current situation that her mind for once wasn't on her boyfriend.

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Are you alright?" He put a hand on Harry's shoulder, his wounded shoulder, and Harry winced, gritting his teeth, as a new wave of pain spread through his right shoulder and down the whole length of his arm. Black dots appeared in front of his eyes, as the pain mingled with the exhaustion of his body. Apparating through wards really wasn't that much fun, even when they were lowered. Startled, Ron pulled his hand back and gazed at it with wide eyes. "Damn it, mate. You're not _fine_. You're bleeding!"

"It's alright," Harry hissed, still trying to get rid of the black dots. "Just a bit longer…" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, as his gaze once again landed on Snape. The Potions Master had pulled a vial out of the many pockets of his robes and was now pouring the blood red liquid down Draco's throat.

Finally Ron and Hermione noticed as well, whom Harry was staring at, according to the gasp that escaped Hermione's lips. She took a hurried step forward, but Harry gently gripped her wrist, shaking his head, as she looked at him. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw her biting down on her lower lip, but she didn't make any more attempts to run to Draco's side. And soon, only about half a minute later, the pulsating light began to beat more regularly and stronger, and Snape stepped back with a satisfied look on his face, as he once again looked at Harry and nodded.

Taking his nod as sign that she could now go, Hermione tore her hand out of Harry's weak grasp and hurried at Draco's side. She grabbed his strangely stiff hand and immediately a smile spread over her lips. Even Harry could see it from the distance – some colour had already returned on Draco's pale face. It seemed as if everything was going to be alright.

Suddenly, now that he could finally relax and the last of the adrenalin that had kept him going until now was drained, everything around him went dark. He only heard Ron calling his name before he knew no more.

* * *

His head was throbbing painfully and he was so tired. Those were the first thoughts that crossed Harry's mind, as he slowly opened his eyes. However, as soon as he had opened them, glaring light greeted him and he squeezed them shut with a quiet groan escaping his lips. The pain in his head worsened, if that was even possible and Harry wanted nothing more than to slip again into this blissful nothingness.

"Potter?"

Harry heard the whisper of his name and slowly, carefully opened his eyes again. The light still hurt and without even thinking about it, Harry waved his hand wearily, which effectively closed the curtains in front of the windows of the Hospital Wing. He almost sighed in relief. This was much better. Turning his head into the direction where he had heard the voice, he saw Draco Malfoy lying in the bed next to him. In the faint light Harry could see that Draco was still paler than usual, but he was awake and obviously a lot better than before.

"Draco?" he croaked, his throat hurting nearly as much as his head. He swallowed, trying to get some moisture down his throat.

"Quiet," Draco shushed him, nodding at the space between them.

First now, Harry saw Hermione curled up on a chair, fast asleep. Turning his head slightly to the other side, he could vaguely make out the tall and gangly shape of his best friend in the darkness. He was also sleeping on his chair and he looked really uncomfortable. A small grin appeared on Harry's face, as he turned his full attention back to Draco. "How are you feeling?"

"Not dead," Draco answered with a weak smirk. "And that's one big improvement, isn't it?"

Harry returned the smirk. "I agree." Trying to get more comfortable, he tried to lie on his side, but his still sore shoulder reminded him that he better shouldn't do it. With a wince, he resigned to lying on his back. "How long have I been out?"

"Not even a whole day. It's late afternoon. I woke up this morning and Hermione told me what you've done, after Madam Pomfrey had finally released me from her Full Body Bind," Draco told him. "Can't survive a day without playing hero, can you, Potter?"

"Shut it, Draco," Harry growled, but he was glad that Draco was already acting a lot like his old self again. His eyes wandered around the dark Hospital Wing and that was when he noticed something was different. "Where're Clara and her children?"

"Madam Pomfrey released them this morning, though she made quite a fuss about it. But Snape had been really insistent that his wife and his children might feel more comfortable in his quarters." Harry had expected Draco to answer, but instead it was Ron's voice that told him this. His best friend walked around the bed, so that he was now standing between Harry and Draco, stretching his neck. "But just tell me, mate, how did you know that Snape has a family and _how the hell_ did you know that they were in danger?"

"That would interest me as well," Hermione, now also woken up by the noise, asked sleepily with a slightly disapproving voice. "I mean, it would be easy to find out that he had family, if one knew where to look, but I've been thinking about how you could have known about them being in danger and I've only come to one conclusion."

Harry didn't dare to look at Hermione. He knew that with his actions of the previous night he had given away his secret and that he would have to bear the consequences, mainly the disappointment and anger of his friends. But compared to the other secret he was still keeping from them, this was nothing.

"Harry, when exactly has the link between you and Voldemort been re-established?"

He looked up at Hermione, glad that he couldn't make out the most likely disappointed expression on her face, and sighed. "A few hours after we arrived in this time. And I had the first vision before we went to Diagon Alley."

"You've been lying to us all this time?" Ron asked, shaking his head in disbelief. "That's more than a half year!"

Hermione knelt down next to Harry's bed and looked at him imploringly. "Harry, do you realize just how dangerous this has been? If Voldemort—"

"No," Harry interrupted her firmly. "No 'if Voldemort'. I've been gathering information this way, Hermione. Valuable information. And if I had Occluded, Snape's family would be dead now!"

"But, Harry, don't you understand?" Hermione asked shrilly. "Voldemort doesn't know yet, who we are and we want to keep it that way! He could have found out through your link!"

"He doesn't know," Harry told her, slowly feeling the anger rise up in him. Basically he had known how Hermione would react to this, and he hadn't told them because of this, but he couldn't have just let Snape's family die. Not when he could have saved them. "He doesn't know about the connection and I believe that the link is only one-sided anyway. He doesn't know…" He grabbed his head, feeling the headache return at full force. It was a wonder that Madam Pomfrey hadn't already come out of her office upon hearing this commotion. "Please, Hermione, I can't do this now…"

Hermione heaved a long-suffered sigh, which told Harry that she wasn't through with him yet, but eventually he could see her nod. "Here," she said, taking a vial from the bedside locker. "This is some pain relieving potion mixed with a bit of Dreamless Sleep. Madam Pomfrey told me to give it to you, should you wake up and be in pain. She said that you need a lot of rest. Your magical energy is heavily drained and it needs a few days until you're back to your old self, magical-wise. Actually, I still don't know, how you did this, even though I can tell that whatever you did was completely irresponsible. But you can still tell me how, later. Now, drink this."

Hermione simply pressed the vial against Harry's lips and he drank the contents, if a bit reluctantly. Even though he was tired, he still had some questions. However, a few seconds later he already felt the pain lessen und his eyelids becoming heavier. But right before he slipped back into nothingness, he could hear a chuckling Ron whisper into his ear, "You better have some answers ready, when you wake up, mate. Because Hermione still insists that it is impossible to Apparate into and out of Hogwarts."

* * *

When Harry woke up the next time, Ron and Hermione weren't there anymore and Draco was asleep. He noticed relieved that his headache had lessened to a light bearable throbbing and he didn't even have to squint against the morning light that shone into the Hospital Wing. Slowly sitting up, Harry flexed his shoulder. A grin spread over his face, when he felt that it didn't hurt at all anymore. Now he only needed to convince Madam Pomfrey to let him go.

A task which would probably prove to be a lot harder than many would suspect, because almost as soon as Harry had swung his legs over the edge of his bed, ready to get up, Madam Pomfrey stormed out of her office and ushered him back into his bed.

"Professor Potter!" she told him sternly. "Get back into this bed, at once! And you will stay there for the next few days!"

"Madam Pomfrey, I'm fine," Harry said, even though his protest fell on deaf ears.

The school nurse simply waved her wand over him, the whole time muttering under her breath, until she eventually nodded. Apparently his recovery was proceeding to her satisfaction. "Do you have, besides the light headache, any other complaints?"

"No, Madam Pomfrey," he answered obediently, looking at the matron with wide innocent eyes, hoping that she might give in and let him go.

Her forehead furrowed upon seeing the look Harry was giving her and he could've sworn he saw a slight tug at her lips, before she narrowed her eyes at him. "Even though you might feel better, you still need a lot of rest, Professor. I won't release you from the Hospital Wing for at least another two days. But seeing as you feel better, I will allow the Headmaster, Professor Snape and your friends to visit you this afternoon, because they have told me that they have a lot of questions that you need to answer."

This time Harry groaned and fell back on his pillow. "Can't you just tell them that I don't feel up for that yet?"

"Really, Professor Potter," Madam Pomfrey tut-tutted. "I will tell the Headmaster that you will expect them after lunch."

After she had left him, Harry simply closed his eyes again. He contemplated sneaking out of the Hospital Wing, but for one it would be quite immature and then he guessed that Madam Pomfrey must have set up some monitor charms around him to alert her, when he decided to leave the bed. So he had no other choice but to wait for lunch and the inevitable conversation afterwards.

And lunch came a lot sooner than expected. Draco had also woken up, when the smell of food had wafted through the Hospital Wing and he refused the potions Madam Pomfrey had wanted to give him with his meal, because he knew that they would have just made him sleepy again and he wanted to be present for the conversation. At least now Harry had some company, while he was waiting for the others to arrive.

Just after the house-elf had cleared away the plates from lunch, the door to the Hospital Wing opened and Professor Dumbledore stepped inside, followed by Ron and Hermione and Snape with his wife and children. Harry noticed immediately that Clara was already looking a lot better than the day before, as were Jocelyn and the baby. It really was a wonder what a bath and one or two good nights of sleep could do. But they weren't the only ones with notable changes. Severus Snape was looking like a new man. His freshly washed hair was tied back neatly and some light had returned into his dark eyes. It really made a big different to the Potions Masters usually so menacing presence.

Madam Pomfrey immediately stepped forward at their arrival and invited Jocelyn into her office for a cup of hot cocoa and some biscuits. "Please let me also take little Selvyn. I'm sure I can look after him for the duration of your conversation," she said to Clara, motioning to the baby in the blond woman's arms. Clara hesitated for a moment, but eventually laid the baby into Madam Pomfrey's arms with a grateful smile on her face.

"Ah, Harry, Eirian," Dumbledore greeted them amiably, as he conjured a couple of comfy chairs around the two beds and sat down one of them. "It's a pleasure to see that the two of you are feeling better than two days ago. I've got to admit, you've had me worried for a moment. But now that Madam Pomfrey deems you ready, I daresay we are all very interested in some answers from your side, Mr. Potter. What interests me most – how did you know that Mrs. Snape and her children were in danger?"

Harry sighed, having known that this would most likely be the first question. He hesitated and glanced warily at Snape, which Dumbledore noticed.

"Of course… I understand your reluctance. But you don't need to worry. Before coming here, Professor Snape and his family had to take a vow that they won't reveal anything they will hear now. So it is safe."

"Alright," Harry eventually conceded and then proceeded to tell his story.

He began with how he found out that Snape had a family and then told them about his connection to Voldemort and his visions. His friends didn't react at all to this news, except for the still disapproving look on Hermione's face, as they had already heard the part about the link the day before. The reactions of the others were just as he had expected – Dumbledore had a thoughtful look on his face, Clara was clearly shocked by this revelation and Snape looked like he had a hard time to keep his mouth shut and his face was incredible pale.

"Now," Harry concluded his tale, "before any of you say something, I just want to make some things clear. I believe that the connection to Voldemort" – Harry ignored the winces around him – "is one-sided. He doesn't know that I sometimes land in his head or can feel his emotions. And no, Hermione, I won't Occlude, I already told you that yesterday. The information I find out this way is much too valuable. In case you've already forgotten, I saved three lives not even two days ago. Without the vision, Clara and her children would be dead right now!"

Harry hadn't noticed that his breaths came in short gasps until he was finished with his tirade. His headache was slowly returning, but he didn't say anything about it. He couldn't show any weakness, not now. He needed to show them that he was serious.

"Potter's right," Draco suddenly said, his voice stronger than one would expect after nearly dying. "His connection to the Dark Lord really might work to our advantage. He only seems to have forgotten something – he didn't save three lives. He saved four. I'm sure Professor Snape would have never given me the antidote, if Harry hadn't saved his family – no offence, Professor."

"None taken," Snape replied, his lips curling into a slight smirk, but the look on his face quickly turned into a serious, nearly defending one. "As a matter fact, I would have let him die. The Dark Lord has promised me that he would spare my family, if I killed one of you. But I should have realized that he would never keep his word."

Harry looked at him with understanding in his eyes. He really could sympathise with Snape. If Voldemort had captured one of his family, one of the people close to him, and threatened to kill them if he didn't do as he was told, Harry was sure he would have done the same. To protect the ones he loved, he would stop at nothing. "But you were after me, no, Voldemort was after me. After discovering that I was a Parselmouth, he thought it would be better to get rid of me, just in case I might be a threat to him. It happened at the Weasleys and I suspect that it was the eggnog that was poisoned, but I still don't know, how you could have pulled that off."

"Charlie Weasley," Snape explained tiredly and Clara took his hand. Harry was a bit surprised to see that Snape didn't pull his hand away. "I've had him under the Imperius curse since shortly before Halloween. There was a Hogsmeade weekend and he was an easy target as well as close to you. No one ever suspected that it was him, who let the snake into the castle. A simple Engorgement Charm was all he needed to let the snake grow. And then, before Christmas, after the Dark Lord had ordered me to kill Professor Potter, there was another Hogsmeade weekend, during which I renewed the curse and gave him his new orders and the poison. His order was to put the poison into your glass, but something must have gone wrong."

"I didn't drink my eggnog," Harry told him. "Draco did." Harry noticed his slip-up too late and already saw how Snape's eyes widened, as they flickered over to Draco, resting on him, and slowly understanding dawned on the Potion Masters face. Harry had already known that this man was highly intelligent, but he hadn't expected that he would figure it out this quickly.

For several long moments Severus Snape was staring at Draco as if he had never seen him before, mumbling something unintelligible under his breath. "Draco Malfoy?" he questioned eventually, his voice showing his disbelief. Harry watched, as Draco's grey eyes met Snape's black ones, only showing a bit surprise, before the blond Slytherin slowly nodded. "Unbelievable," Snape muttered, running a hand over his face. "How did this happen? Which spell did this?"

Harry heaved a heavy sigh, massaging his forehead. Of all the people to find out about their situation… Well, there was nothing he could do to change it and after all, all signs pointed to Snape having changed sides. Voldemort didn't have his leverage anymore and Snape was intelligent enough to have seen that Voldemort was only using his Death Eaters. Besides, having an excellent Potions Master like Severus Snape on their side, while brewing the complicated potion, might be a big advantage. "Proferre Tempus," Harry finally answered.

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed shocked.

Harry turned to his friend and shrugged, knowing full well that Ron had never gotten over his animosity towards Snape. "It doesn't matter, Ron. He's on our side now and he can't tell anyone about it anyway."

"If you say so," the redhead replied surly.

"Severus," Dumbledore interrupted what might become a fight between the two friends by addressing the Potions Master, "if you have any questions concerning this spell, you might ask me and I'm sure also Miss Granger. However, I see that both patients are slowly tiring and I wanted to keep this meeting short. So if there are no more immediate questions, I would like to adjourn this conversation until at least Professor Potter has regained his full health."

"Thank you, Headmaster," Harry said gratefully.

"I still have one question," Hermione said, almost a bit timidly. "Harry, I want to know how you got back. I looked it up again yesterday, and _Hogwarts, a History _clearly states that you can't Apparate into the castle. So, how did you do it?"

A mischievous grin spread over Harry's face. He just loved it, when he could prove Hermione wrong, or at least, partly wrong. "You're right, 'Mione. You can't Apparate into the castle, _when the wards are at their full capacity. _However, if you remember, I told Ron to ask Albus to lower the wards down to 70 percent. In our time, I trained Apparating with Albus, especially in difficult situations. Encountering wards was one of those situations. I'm able to Apparate into Hogwarts, when the wards were at 80 percent, but two days ago I knew that I wouldn't be alone, when I returned, so the wards needed to be lower than that."

"That's incredible," Hermione mumbled. "Harry, as far as I know, you are the first person ever to achieve this!"

The grin on Harry's face got even wider. "Well, 'Mione, it wouldn't be the first time that I'd be the first one to do something."

Ron laughed out loud and a small blush crept onto Hermione's face, as she slapped the arm of the redhead, muttering something like 'Shut up'.

"Professor Potter," Severus Snape suddenly said respectfully, when Ron had finally stopped laughing, looking a bit uncomfortable. He kept glancing at his wife, who was simply smiling at him encouragingly. After having taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and said, "I— Thank you. For saving my wife and my children. I'm in your debt."

Harry simply nodded at him. "You're welcome." Stretching out his hand, he continued, "And please, call me Harry."

Severus Snape regarded Harry's hand for a few long seconds, so that it almost seemed as if he would refuse the offer, but then, he quickly crossed the distance between them and grabbed the hand firmly, their gazes meeting. "Thank you, Harry."

"And again, you're welcome, Severus."


	30. The Spy's Decision

**A/N: Again, I won't say much. You know that I'm really busy at university, so that's my only excuse… I hope you understand and will still continue to read this story, even though my updates are really, really slow, while I have so many other things to do… But don't worry, I will never abandon this fic!!!**

**And now, before we go on to the story, I wanted thank you all very much for your reviews and critics! It's always great to see that your work is appreciated. :)**

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* * *

Chapter 30: The Spy's Decision**

_Harry was looking down at the kneeling man in front of him, his red eyes glinting in the darkness. The man's head was bowed, so he couldn't see how Harry was fingering his wand, ready to release the curse that was already on the tip of his tongue. But first, before his servant were to receive his punishment, he needed some answers._

"_I've got to admit, Severus," he hissed, not once removing his eyes from the dark haired man, "I'm surprised that you've returned. After your wife's flight, I was sure that you would hide with her and your children behind the old fool."_

_Severus Snape didn't look up, but as he spoke, his voice was calm and smooth. "I assure you, my Lord, that my loyalty to you has never once wavered. Whether my wife is held captured by you or not has no influence on which side I stand on."_

"_And which side would that be?"_

"_Your side, of course, my Lord._ _I serve only one master."_

"_And yet word has reached me that you gave that teacher you poisoned the antidote," Harry challenged. "Look at me, Severus."_

_Snape raised his head and his dark eyes met his Lord's red ones. Harry reached out with his mind, but saw nothing of importance, as Snape answered, "I had no other choice. Potter said that, if I saved his friend, he would save my family. Now, he saved my family first, but to keep up appearances, I had to keep my end of the bargain. Even though I don't believe saving my family was all Potter's doing."_

"_What do you mean, Severus?"_

"_My Lord, you are by far more powerful than Potter. I highly doubt that he would be able to stand against you and get away with his life, thus I come to the conclusion that you must have let him and my family go. Whatever your reasons for this were, I thank you very much for sparing my family. I'm in your debt."_

_Harry's lips curled into a cruel, satisfied smirk as he lifted his wand. Snape lowered his head again immediately, gazing at the dark floor. "I'm glad to have you still in my ranks, Severus. Crucio!"_

* * *

Harry sat up straight in the bed, his right palm clutching his scar. It was burning like hell. Cursing loudly, he swung his legs over the edge of his bed, but he didn't get far, as, as soon as his feet touched the ground, Madam Pomfrey came once again bustling out of her private chambers next to the Hospital Wing. She was wearing a deep purple dressing gown over her nightgown and within seconds, before he could even stand up, she was already towering over him.

"Professor Potter, would you care to explain why you think it might be a good idea to get up at this time of the night?" she asked in a no-nonsense voice.

Harry looked up at her. "I need to talk to Professor Snape."

"Just what the fucking hell is this ruckus? I need my beauty sleep," Draco grumbled, as he as well sat up in his bed, looking at them with an annoyed look on his face. "Of course, Potter, I should've known…"

"Shut it, Draco," Harry snapped, as he jumped to his feet and was about to storm past Madam Pomfrey. The older witch, however, had her wand at the ready, and before Harry even knew it, she took advantage of his aggravated state and he found himself in a full body bind. Glaring at Madam Pomfrey, he was helplessly levitated back to the bed and dropped rather abruptly.

But Madam Pomfrey was not at all impressed by his glare, as she simply snapped, "Enough!", at a laughing Draco, effectively shutting him up, and then turned back to Harry with her arms crossed over her chest. "Now, Professor, do you promise to stay in bed and do what I say, when I release you from this spell?"

Harry simply continued to glare at her. How was he supposed to answer her? Still, at the very moment he thought this, he found that he could move again. But instead of jumping up again, he carefully sat up, not wanting to risk ending up in the full body bind again, and demanded again, "I need to talk to Professor Snape."

"Professor Snape is not at Hogwarts at the moment," Madam Pomfrey answered. "He's away on the Headmaster's orders and is expected back on Sunday at the earliest."

Harry held his throbbing head. Of course, Snape' couldn't be at Hogwarts, when he, at this moment, was tortured by Voldemort. Sunday. That was in two days. So much could happen. Harry dreaded that Snape would not return at all. "Alright," he conceded, feeling some familiar anger at the Headmaster bubble up again. "Then I need to talk to Dumbledore."

"The Headmaster is away on urgent business in London and probably won't return until Saturday," Madam Pomfrey told him.

Harry groaned. This really couldn't be true. "Saturday," he repeated.

"Yes, Saturday." Madam Pomfrey was looking at him sternly, as Harry raised his head again. "You will be able to talk to him then. Now I suggest that you go back to sleep, or I might rethink my decision of letting you leave after breakfast."

Feeling like a student again, Harry reluctantly sank into his pillow and pulled the blanket up again. He knew that Madam Pomfrey was serious, when she made threats like this, and he really had to get out of the Hospital Wing. Neither Dumbledore nor Snape seemed to be at Hogwarts, but there was still one person he could talk to, as soon as he was released.

Madam Pomfrey nodded approvingly upon seeing this. "Very good. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to go back to bed as well. And no tricks, Professor. Be sure that I _will_ know, if you try to get out of bed again." Without another word, she whirled around and went back to her private chambers.

However, Harry didn't close his eyes. He wasn't sure, if he could go back to sleep again. His head was still hurting, but he didn't tell Madam Pomfrey that. For one, he was sure that she would have kept him longer in the Hospital Wing if she knew, and then he knew perfectly well that this headache would be gone soon. He just needed to Occlude.

And this was what he was doing for the next few minutes, until a hissing noise broke his concentration. It was Draco, trying to get his attention. With a quiet sigh, Harry answered, "What is it?"

"Tell me, Potter," Draco whispered. "It was a vision, wasn't it?"

"Yes it was."

"So… what… what was it about?"

Harry remained quiet for a while, listening for any sound that might come out of Madam Pomfrey's private chambers. But when he heard nothing, he finally answered, "Severus has returned to Voldemort. Voldemort is torturing him."

Draco immediately began to curse, but quietly, and Harry was grateful for that. He didn't know what would happen, if they somehow woke up Madam Pomfrey again. "Dumbledore did this," Draco hissed eventually, clutching his blankets tightly in his fists. "Dumbledore must have convinced him to go back. You heard what Pomfrey said. He's away on Dumbledore's orders."

"I know," Harry agreed quietly. "I know."

* * *

Harry didn't sleep any more that night, even though he tried. But he wasn't the only one. While silently waiting for morning to come, he never heard the tell-tale breaths of someone who was asleep. Apparently Draco had just as much a sleepless night as he had and this was not surprising, seeing as Draco and Snape had always had a much closer relationship than many other students and teachers.

Finally, when morning came, Harry had to suffer through breakfast and being watched by Madam Pomfrey to make sure that he really ate everything. But as soon as his plate was cleared away, he was on his feet and pulled over the dirty robes from a couple of days ago. One of the first things he was going to do, when he was back in his room, was to take a hot shower – even though cleaning spells really did what they were meant to do, it just wasn't the same – even before he would seek out the person he wanted to talk to.

But before he could leave, Madam Pomfrey insisted on one last check-up at which end she nodded, apparently satisfied with the results, and officially released him. Harry let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding and got up from the bed. He waved cheekily at Draco, wishing him a good day and left the Hospital Wing, but not before seeing the rude gesture Draco was making with his hand.

There was no one in the common room, when Harry got there. Harry guessed that they were still in class, seeing as it was still Friday morning. But this suited him just fine, because now no one would stop him from going down to the dungeons.

The shower was a quick one, and after having changed into clean and new clothes, Harry was already on his way down the stairs to the dungeons and Snape's private chambers. He met a few students on his way there, all of them coming back from their common room after having exchanged books or on their way there, and he nodded to them as a greeting. Just before reaching the Slytherin common room, however, Harry took a right turn and found himself standing in front of a dark wooden door. Raising his fist to the wood, he knocked.

It took a few seconds until the door was opened a bit, just enough so that the person inside could see who had knocked. Harry waited until Clara was sure of his identity and a short moment later, the door was opened fully. He had to admit that Clara was again looking a lot better than when he had last seen her, even though she was regarding him a bit warily, which was completely understandable. Smiling comfortingly at her, Harry said, "Hello Clara. I hope I'm not disturbing you?"

"No," she softly shook her head. "Please come in."

Harry stepped over the threshold with a grateful smile on his face and looked around. He was surprised. The room he was now standing in seemed to be the sitting room and it was quite cosy. Then again, a woman had been living here for the last few days, so maybe she had changed a bit. Clara sat down on the couch in front of a small coffee table and Harry took the armchair across from her.

"Would you like something to drink? Tea?"

"No thank you," Harry told her, shaking his head slightly. "I'm not staying long…How are you and the kids doing?"

"We're fine," she smiled weakly, almost shyly. "Selvyn is asleep next door and your mother has come by about half an hour ago and is outside with Jocy. She's really a nice woman."

"I know," Harry replied with a small, though he was a bit surprised that his mother had been to visit Clara. "But I didn't know you knew each other."

Clara chuckled softly. "Of course I knew her. She was Head Girl, after all, and she's been known to help younger students, if they had some trouble with their studies, even if they were in other houses. And not to forget her friendship with Severus…"

If Harry had accepted her offer of tea, he was sure that he would have spit it across the table. Instead, he simply looked at Clara, dumbfounded. "Excuse me?" he croaked miserably, and immediately felt his cheeks redden. Clearing his throat, he repeated, "Excuse me? They were friends?"

"Yes, up until the end of their fifth year," Clara told him. "Didn't you know? They didn't tell you? I mean, I was only a third year back then, but I've already… liked Severus back then, so it was impossible not to notice." This time, her cheeks reddened, as she was reminded of her teenage crush.

Harry shook his head and leaned back on the armchair, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, they didn't tell me this particular bit of information." Sighing, Harry lowered his hand and leaned slightly forward again. Now was not the time to talk about this. There were more important things to talk about right now, even though he really would like to hear more about it. "I'm sorry… I'm not here to talk about my mother… Actually, I wanted to ask you, if you knew, where your husband is."

She averted her eyes from him, staring instead into the fire in the fire place. And this was the answer Harry had dreaded to hear. She knew.

"Why did he go back?" he asked quietly.

"Because he felt he had to," Clara answered just as quietly, still staring into the flames. "He has come back from a conversation with Professor Dumbledore and told me that he needed to go back. That this was the ideal time to secure his spot as a spy in You-Know-Who's ranks without his knowing."

"Didn't you try to stop him?"

Clara looked at him with tears in her eyes. "What should I have said? I love Severus and I don't want to lose him. I told him this, but knew at the same time that I couldn't stop him. Once he's made up his mind, nothing can stop him."

Harry knew that she was right. "That was a stupid and Gryffindorish thing of him to do," he simply said, but couldn't keep the small smirk from his face. This comment also earned him a quiet giggle and he felt as if he had to assure her that everything would be alright. "I have to admit, I don't like it at all that he has done this and I promise that I will talk to Dumbledore about this. But believe me, when I tell you that Severus has also been a spy in our time and that he's still alive. As hard as it is to admit, he knows what he's doing."

Clara simply nodded without saying anything and a comfortable silence fell over them. Harry leaned back again in his armchair and took another good look around the room. The walls were, of course, dark and made of stone, but there were huge shelves with books covering most of that space. The couch and armchair were also of a darker colour, not really black, but almost, but they were made of a soft material, and fitted somehow perfectly to the dark green carpet. The fire place emitted a comfortable warmth and several magical lights at the walls lit up the room as if there were a window in this room.

"In your time," Clara suddenly began, a bit hesitantly, "we're not alive. I mean, Jocy, Sel and I died, didn't we?"

Harry nodded gravely. "As far as I know… At least I've never heard of you. But I believe that Voldemort killed you in my time, because I couldn't save you, and that this was the reason why Severus turned his back on him and became a spy for our side."

"I see," she sighed and closed her eyes. Harry thought that she was thinking about what she was going to ask him next, and if she really wanted to ask that question. But he didn't need to wait long, as she opened her eyes again shortly after, and looked at him. "How… how is Severus… in your time? What kind of man has become of him?"

Harry paused a bit, before answering. How was he to tell her how Snape really was, how much almost every student hated him and how much he himself hated the world and almost everyone on it. "He… He's become bitter. He barely seeks the company of others and spends most of his time down in the dungeons with his Potions. He's still a teacher at Hogwarts, but not many students like him, because he quickly loses his temper and ridicules students during his lessons. But he can be a good teacher, when the students show promise and are really into the stuff. He certainly knows what he is teaching, that's sure." Harry ran a hand through his hair and let out a deep sigh. "I really wish I could tell you more positive things about him, but that's the way he is. His work as spy has hardened him and I think that the pain of his great loss has forced him to build up a wall around him so that no one, no feelings can get near him. Still, I've worked at his side in the war for many years now, and I believe that, deep down, he's a good man."

* * *

When Harry returned to the time travellers' common room, much later than he had intended, Ron was there, revising the schedule for the upcoming Quidditch matches this term. His friend looked up, when Harry stepped into the room, and a bright grin flashed over his face. "She let you out, mate! Finally! Kept you in there long enough!"

"Yeah," Harry replied, a bit absentmindedly. His mind was still reeling from the conversation he'd just had with Clara. He had really hoped that he could help her some more, but she had said that she was glad that he could at least tell her that much. On his way out, he had met his mother, as she was bringing Jocy back for lunch, and they had left the dungeons together, filling the silence with small talk. Harry wasn't sure, how and if he should breach that subject of his mother's and Snape's friendship at all. They parted in the Entrance Hall and then Harry had walked to their chambers.

"Harry?"

Harry's head shot up, almost painfully, as something cracked in his neck. He winced and rubbed the sore spot with his hand. "Sorry… what was it?"

"Are you sure, you're alright?"

"Yeah," Harry told him. "I'm sure… It's just been a busy morning." Sitting down on the couch across from his friend, Harry began to tell him about his vision that night and his visit to Clara, even though he didn't tell him everything about it.

"Bloody hell," Ron summarised, what he had just heard.

"That's about it," Harry said with a slight smirk. "I will talk to Dumbledore about this. Severus didn't have to do this." Another sigh escaped his lips and he closed his eyes briefly. "Will you please tell Hermione what I just told you? I'm going to retire to my room. There are still plenty of essays that have to be graded and I'm also completely knackered."

"Of course mate," Ron told him and watched Harry go. However, before Harry was through his door, Ron said, "Harry, do me a favour, will you? Please Occlude tonight. You really look like you could use a full night of sleep. It's a wonder Madam Pomfrey released you with those bags under your eyes."

"Thanks, Ron," Harry told him with a grin and closed the door.

Once inside, Harry leant against the door for a moment. A busy morning had been a small understatement. He had no idea just how many hours of sleep he had gotten and then this conversation with Clara had been draining him of the rest of his energy. His hands were shaking slightly and Harry pushed himself away from the door. He walked over to his bedside table and pulled the first drawer open, where his beloved cigarettes were lying. After having taking one of them out of the packet, he opened the window and sat down on the windowsill. He pointed his wand at the cigarette in his mouth and a split second later, it was glowing. Smoke filled his mouth and his lungs and he closed his eyes, relishing in the feeling as his body slowly calmed down.

There was so much he had to do. So many things he had to talk to people about… Dumbledore, his mother… Then he had thought long and hard about it during his stay in the Hospital Wing and come to the conclusion that he had to do what Barty Crouch Jr. in his role as Mad-Eye Moody had done. He needed to prepare the students for the worst. They needed to learn everything about the Unforgivables. There was only one problem – Harry had only once used the Killing Curse and never one of the others. But apparently, he now had no other choice. He only needed the permission from Dumbledore.

Determined that, if Dumbledore gave him permission, he would begin to teach them starting the following week, Harry threw the cigarette out of the window and sat down at his desk with an empty roll of parchment in front of him. He dipped the quill into the ink and began to outline his lesson plans for all seven years.

* * *

The following day, Harry kept his eyes and ears open the whole time, waiting for any news that might tell him whether Dumbledore was back already or someone knew when he would be back. But until dinner that night, he heard nothing. However, waiting for Dumbledore was not the only thing that kept him distracted. More often than he liked, his thoughts wandered back to the unexpected revelation that his mother seemed to have been friends with Snape, and he still had no idea, what he should to about it. Ron and Hermione, who appeared to be worried about him, tried to find out what it was that kept him distracted, but Harry thought that they bought his excuse that he was simply waiting for Dumbledore to show up so that he could talk to him about Snape.

But finally, a few minutes after Harry had sat down at the High Table for dinner, Dumbledore strode into the Great Hall and Harry let out a relieved sigh and, after greeting the Headmaster, returned his attention back to his meal. However, as soon as Dumbledore rose again from his chair, Harry stopped him. "Albus, can I talk to you. In private?" he asked quietly.

Dumbledore nodded and together they left the Great Hall. They didn't speak a single word the whole time they were walking towards the Headmaster's office, but Harry every so often noticed the older wizard's eyes upon him, while he was simply staring ahead. He was still wondering, how he could breach the two subjects he wanted to talk to the Headmaster about. Snape and the Unforgivables. How to begin? How would Dumbledore react? And yet he was determined. Determined to make the Headmaster hear him out.

Once they had both sat down, Dumbledore in his chair behind his desk and Harry in one in front of it, and Harry had declined the Headmaster's offer of a Sherbet Lemon, Dumbledore asked, "What is it you wanted to talk to me about, Harry?"

"Actually," Harry began, "it's two things I wanted to talk to you about. The first one is… Severus Snape. And why he has decided to become a spy. I wanted to know, if you could tell me more about it."

"I see," Dumbledore simply answered, looking at Harry. There was no twinkle in the blue eyes that gazed at him over the half-moon spectacles. Albus Dumbledore was completely serious and Harry returned the gaze with the same seriousness. "I hope you understand that Severus's reasons for this decision are personal and not for me to tell you. However, I believe what I may tell you, is that he feels great remorse for his actions in the past and wants to redeem himself, but I'm sure you have already worked that out yourself."

"And I'm sure that you have encouraged him to do this."

"I do admit that you are correct with this assumption, Harry. Severus is a great asset to the Order in his role as double agent. He is one of the few Death Eaters that Voldemort has allowed in his inner circle and the information he will provide us with could be of tremendous help to prevent attacks and save lives."

Shaking his head, Harry replied, "There was no reason for him to go back. His family is alive and safe. It's not like he has nothing to lose. No matter how great his remorse, no matter what he feels he needs to do to redeem himself, and especially no matter how much of an asset he is, he should always think of his family first. They should be more important to him. He shouldn't risk his life like this."

"Sometimes," Dumbledore said calmly, "there are things more important than blood ties or even friends, if it serves the greater good, Harry. The people close to you might give you the strength you need, but in the end you will do what you have to do. I believe you know what I'm talking about, don't you? You still haven't told your friends of the Prophecy, if I'm correct."

Harry gritted his teeth, his green eyes blazing. "It doesn't matter, whether they know the contents or not," he said, trying to sound as calm as Dumbledore, but some of his anger still seeped into his voice. This was already the second time that Dumbledore pointed out this fact and still Harry didn't want to talk about it. "Everyone knows that in the end, it's going to be me."

"Everyone assumes that it's going to be you," Dumbledore corrected him. "You have many reasons for wanting to kill him and I believe that your status as The Boy Who Lived in your time might support their theory that you are the only one who is able to kill him. But still, you are leaving your friends in the dark, and you will fight Voldemort alone, when it's time. You could have turned your back on the Prophecy, ignoring it completely, but you know that you have to do it."

"You have no idea, what you are talking about," Harry told him, even though he knew that Dumbledore's theory was spot-on. He cursed inwardly. How was it that the older wizard always seemed to be two steps ahead of him? This was highly infuriating! A deep sigh escaped his lips and he ran a hand through his hair. Some of the messy strands fell out of the elastic, much to his dismay. "Whatever," Harry said eventually, "I see that you cannot tell me more about Severus. However, as I already said, he was not the only reason, why I wanted to talk to you."

"What was the other reason?" Dumbledore asked, apparently not at all bothered by Harry's accusations. As a matter of fact, he seemed to be sincerely interested in what Harry wanted to say now.

After having taken a deep breath, Harry explained, "After what happened to Charlie Weasley, I've been thinking. I mean, I've noticed it before, but I've never thought much about it, even though I probably should have… The students are not at all prepared for the Unforgivables."

Dumbledore nodded slightly, as he replied, "Yes, I've been thinking about this as well. What do you think should we do about it?"

Harry was relieved to hear this. If Dumbledore had really thought about this problem as well – and Harry had no reason to believe that the Headmaster was lying to him about this – then he might be really open to his idea. Encouraged, he continued, "In my fourth year, our Defence professor taught us everything we needed to know about the Unforgivables. He demonstrated with spiders what they did, how cruel they are. Some of my classmates were visibly shaken after this demonstration." Harry thought of Neville, but also about his own feelings about seeing how his parents had died. "He even performed the Imperius Curse on _us_, so that we would know how it feels like and learn to shake it off. I want to follow his example, but for this, I need your permission."

Dumbledore regarded him calmly for a long moment, his eyes thoughtful. "Do you plan to organize your lessons like this, or how did you plan to teach your students?"

"Something like that, yeah, but with a few differences," Harry told him and pulled a roll of parchment out of his robes. He gave them to Dumbledore, who carefully unrolled the parchment and began to read. Harry tried to lean back in the stuffy armchair, but he was too tense to relax. So he felt a small grateful grin on his face, as Fawkes flew into the office through the open window and sang a few uplifting notes, before settling down on his perch.

"You have really put a lot of thought into this, I assume," Dumbledore said at last, when he had finished reading and returned the role of parchment to Harry. Harry simply nodded, not trying to let it show just how nervous he was. This really meant a lot to him. He didn't want that something like what happened to Charlie happened again. "It's a touchy subject, especially in the current situation. I'm sure the Ministry will fear that teaching this will make the students more susceptible; however, I don't think that. I believe that it will teach them to be wary."

"So, I may teach them."

"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore told him. "You may. But," he added, this time with a bright twinkle in his eyes, the one Harry was used to, "before you leave, I also want to talk to you about something."

"What is it?" Harry asked curiously.

"Oh, I'm sure you will like it." The twinkle got, if possible, even brighter and also a bit more mischievous. "I would have told everyone at the staff meeting on Monday, but seeing as you are already here… Ron approached me last Thursday with an excellent idea. He noticed that morning how a subdued mood has settled over the majority of the students, after they had heard of what had been done to Mr. Weasley. So he thought that they might need something to lift their spirits and told me of his idea."

Harry grinned slightly and shook his head. "Please, don't tell me it's another ball."

"No, no, Harry… this is much better."

* * *

Harry left Dumbledore's office in a better mood than he had expected, especially after the first part of their conversation. He was still grinning at Ron's idea. This was perfect and he couldn't wait until the students were told.

His mood improved even more the following morning, when Harry went to breakfast after a fun night with him and Ron talking about his friend's brilliant idea. Even Hermione had joined in now and then, when she glanced over the rim of the thick book in her lap. They had to fill her in, because she had returned from the Hospital Wing, just as they were in the middle of a laughing fit, and she had wanted to know what was so funny.

He was still grinning brightly, and chuckling every now and then, especially when a particularly funny suggestion from Ron shot through his mind, as he entered the Great Hall. The already wide grin turned into a bright smile, when he saw Severus Snape, along with Clara and Jocy sitting at the High Table. The heavy weight of worry he had felt ever since he'd had the vision dropped from his shoulders and he greeted the family with a friendly smile. "Good morning, Jocy, Clara… Good morning, Severus, I hope you are well?" he asked, as he sat down next to his colleague.

"Yes, thank you," Severus replied and Harry could hear in his voice that he was sincere.

"I'm glad to hear that," Harry told him and opened the Daily Prophet that was lying next to his plate. He scanned the pages quickly, while filling his plate with eggs and bacon, hoping to find something interesting to read. However, he realized quickly that he shouldn't have done this, as his eyes read one of the headlines.

_Unforgivables taught at Hogwarts!_

Harry growled and abruptly closed the newspaper, turning his full attention to his breakfast and began to angrily glare and stab at his eggs. Just how the bloody hell had the Daily Prophet found out about this so soon, just a few hours after he had talked to Dumbledore about this?

"Harry, what's wrong?" he suddenly heard Hermione's worried voice next to him. He looked up and saw her and Ron standing there.

"This," he hissed and showed her the article in the newspaper.

Hermione's brows furrowed, as she read the article, but she was calm, as she closed the paper. "Don't let this bother you, Harry," she told him firmly, already filling her plate. He could see the look in her eyes, as she did this, and he knew the look. Hermione was already planning something, and he got the vague feeling that she would be on her way to the library at the latest after her classes. "I'm going to take care of this."

And he had been right. Not with his assumption that she would head to the library as soon as possible, but that she was a woman on a mission. He only wondered, what his friend was planning. He exchanged a questioning look with Ron, but he only shrugged and shook his head. With a slight grin, Harry returned his attention to his breakfast. Hermione would tell them eventually… She always did, after all.

When Harry left the Great Hall, he was surprised to see Severus standing there, apparently waiting for him. "I would like to speak with you for a moment," Severus simply said, when he saw Harry.

"Of course," Harry answered and without another word Severus led him into an empty classroom. Harry closed the door and then turned to face Severus, who looked a bit uncomfortable. Hoping that he might be able to ease him into this conversation, Harry said, "I'm really glad that you are okay… I've been worried, when I heard that you returned to _him_."

"The Dark Lord didn't… punish me as much as I had expected," Severus told him stiffly. "But I'm back in his inner circle and he trusts me as much as he trusts any of his Death Eaters. He believes that I'm a spy for his side..."

"While he thinks that Dumbledore believes you're working for the Order," Harry completed the sentence thoughtfully. "I'm sure Clara told you that I've been to see her? Well, I've also talked to Dumbledore, and even though I still don't understand why you're doing this, I think that you do have your reasons. And I know also that you can do it."

"You're correct. I have my reasons… I'm glad to see that you have realized this. However, this is not what I wanted to talk to you about. Clara said to me that she told you some information you hadn't been aware of before. Some Information about your mother and me having been friends."

Harry's throat suddenly felt dry. "Yes, she told me."

"And am I correct to assume that you have not talked to Lily about this, yet?"

"Yes," Harry answered. "I didn't know how to—"

"Then, heed my advice," Severus interrupted him. "I'm not at liberty to tell you about our friendship, but if you really want to know more about this, go, talk to her. Lily will tell you everything you might want to know. You're supposed to be a foolishly brave Gryffindor, so act like it. Lily certainly won't kill you for asking a simple question."

Harry allowed a small sheepish grin on his face and had to resist the urge to scratch the back of his head. "You're right," he admitted. "I will talk to her."

"Very good," Severus replied. "If you will excuse me, I've got some lessons to prepare for tomorrow and I'm sure you will also need some more time to finalize the plans for your new lessons." A smirk crept on Severus's face. "I'm looking forward to hearing how the students will act after your lesson, but believe me, I will assign many detentions, if they disturb my classes with their excited and annoying chatter."

Without another word, Severus left the classroom, but the moment he was gone, Harry snorted loudly. He guessed that he had just gotten Severus Snape's approval of his new lessons.


	31. Ron's big Day

**A/N: Thanks again for the great reviews and waiting so patiently for my updates. Right now, I'm working at my Bachelor Thesis, which is about 'Myth, Legend and History in Harry Potter'. Isn't it great to write an important paper like this about a book you love so much? Well, I think so anyway. Anyway, I have to hand it in until May 21, so I'm really really busy… Don't expect a new chapter until I've handed the Bachelor Thesis in.**

**So, I don't want to bore you any longer! Have fun reading this chapter!**

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Chapter 31: Ron's big Day

It was Sunday night and Harry was sitting at the desk in his room, brooding over his lesson plan for the following day. He had made some adjustments to the plan he had shown Dumbledore, but still thought that something was missing. It was already hard on the students, but he still thought that the impact could be greater. Something needed to be changed…

Suddenly, an idea shot through his mind. Harry clutched the quill tightly in his hand and some drops of ink fell down onto the parchment. His eyes widened. No… he couldn't do this. Or maybe… No! This was out of the question! He was horrified that this idea had even crossed his mind. But… But if he really wanted to shock his students, to show them what it really was like… Barty Crouch did a good job in scaring the students, but this was before Voldemort had returned. Now, he _was_ there, causing terror everywhere… More had to be done.

Harry shook his head, his face pale, but stood up nonfetheless. He couldn't believe he was actually going to do this. He knew many reasons of why he shouldn't, but still he kept going and opened the door to the common room. He almost breathed a sigh of relief, when, at first sight, the room was empty, but then he spotted a mop of red hair behind the backrest of the armchair. Swallowing hard, Harry walked up to his best mate, who looked up, when he heard the footsteps.

"Hey Harry," Ron greeted him with a grin, as he put the Quidditch magazine on the table. "Finished with your lesson plan?"

"Almost," Harry answered with a weak smile. He rubbed his sweaty hands dry in his jeans. "Ron," he began uneasily, "can we… can we talk in my room, please? I've got to ask you a huge favour."

"Sure, mate, anything," Ron replied at once and got up from the armchair. He rubbed his hands eagerly and Harry began to feel sick. He was sure that Ron could see how bad he felt, so he tried again to smile. And failed miserably.

"Don't, Ron," he croaked. "Just, hear me out, before you say anything, okay?"

Nodding slowly, Ron followed Harry into his room and closed the door behind him. Harry could feel the questioning gaze in his back and gripped the backrest of his chair tightly, as he stared down at his lesson plan. His hands were trembling and he could feel the sweat on his brow. If it was already this hard just to ask him, how hard would it be doing it? "Harry?" Ron asked, and Harry could clearly hear the worry in his friend's voice.

After having taken a deep breath, Harry turned around, running with his hand through his hair. He tried to keep his voice steady, as he said, "I know this is really a lot to ask, and I will understand, if you don't want to do it, but I need your help tomorrow."

* * *

Monday morning, first class of the day. Harry watched nervously, feeling slightly ill, how the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students from third year filed into the Defence against the Dark Arts classroom. Ron was standing next to him and he could see that his friend was also slightly pale. But he put on a brave face. Turning his attention back to the arriving students, Harry wondered, how he could have deserved such a great friend. Ron had not once questioned him. He had listened to Harry explain what he wanted to do and even though Ron had thought about this for a moment and asked him, how he wanted to achieve this – which Harry had answered with his theory, a theory he would also need to explain to the students – he had agreed almost immediately.

Somehow, Harry had to make it up to Ron after this week. If this was even possible.

The class settled down more quickly than Harry had expected – and hoped – and after closing his eyes briefly, took a step forward. "When I was your age," he began, his eyes wandering over the students, "no one thought that it would be necessary to prepare me for the worst that is out there. First in my fourth year of education we had a teacher, who taught us, even though many others still thought it was too early. But I share my old teacher's opinion. It's never too early to _know_. And because of that," he waved the wand and the piece of chalk wrote _The Unforgivables_ on the blackboard, "this is going to be our topic today and in the next lessons."

Immediately whispers broke out among the students. But Harry's gaze rested on Charlie Weasley. The boy had turned even paler than Ron and this was quite a feat. Still, Harry knew that in the course of this class, Charlie might be getting worse. Harry needed to keep an eye on him.

"Now," he continued and he was surprised that he immediately had the attention of every single student in his classroom. "This lesson is going to be very different from any other class you've had with me until now. And I have to ask you not to talk of this outside of this classroom. No one may know what will happen here." Harry walked around to his desk and unrolled a scroll of parchment. He put it on the desk and a quill next to it. "This is a binding magical contract. Those of you, who want to be taught the way I will do it, please sign your name on this contract. Those of you, who don't, you can leave now. I will give you a reading list about this topic so that you will still pass your exams with flying colours."

Harry's eyes were sweeping over the students – most of them were looking uncertainly at each other. He exchanged a quick glance with Ron, unsure if there would be students, who wanted to stay after this ultimatum. But then, suddenly, Ron smiled and motioned with his head to a table. With a grim, but determined look on his pale face, Charlie Weasley was walking towards them. Harry nodded at him encouragingly, as the boy took the quill and signed the contract. Harry saw that every single eye in the room was boring into Charlie's back, but once he put the quill down, more students got up from their seats and came to the front. However, there were also a few, one Gryffindor and two girls from Ravenclaw, who asked him for the reading list. Harry was a bit disappointed, but handed out the list with a few recommendations, and the three students left the room.

Once everyone's name was on the list and the last students had sat down again, Harry waved his wand again and the shutters in front of the windows closed. Another wave and the door was locked and the room silenced, so that no one outside could hear what was going on inside. When the students noticed his, they began to look a bit more scared, but all of them remained seated.

"Very well," Harry said, as he leaned back against his desk. "I'll thank you for your trust, especially after what has been written in the _Prophet_. I believe most of you should know by now that most of what was written in this article is utter rubbish. I'm not going to teach you how to use the Unforgivables, but to recognize and to fight them. My methods may be unorthodox, but I'm sure that they will be effective.

"Professor Weasley will help me with this and this is where the magical contract comes into the picture. You won't be able to tell anyone what his role in this class is, instead I think you should tell them that I used," Harry waved his wand and a quill on his desk transformed into a white bunny, "this cute little thing."

Some girls squealed upon seeing this animal, remarking how adorable it was, as they had obviously not realized yet, what Harry would use it for.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Harry ignored the girls and continued, "But this bunny won't be needed until later in my presentation. For now, I want to start with the Unforgivable most people call the most harmless, even though it can cause great, if not even greater harm, than the other two. Who knows, what curse I'm talking about?"

Harry saw that tentatively a few hands were raised into the air, but he was waiting for one special student to call on. And just a few seconds later, Charlie's hand was also raised. Harry again nodded at him encouragingly. "Charlie?"

The boy was still incredibly pale, but his eyes were sparkling stubbornly. "The Imperius Curse."

"That's correct," Harry told him, not smiling. "Can you also tell the class, what effect this curse has?"

He saw how Charlie swallowed hard and tightly grabbed the edge of the desk. But he still answered. "Complete obedience," Charlie whispered at first, but then, his voice slowly became stronger. "When the curse is used on you, you have to do everything the caster tells you to do. You can't disobey. You don't even think of disobeying. Everything the caster says sounds like a great idea, truly everything, even the cruelest things. You feel light, without a care in the world. Being under the Imperius feels great, so great that you don't want to return to the harsh real world…"

"Thank you, Charlie… That was really brave," Harry told him sincerely. "Now, I hope you've gotten a good picture of what the Imperius does to you. Most textbooks will simply tell you that the caster of the curse will have complete control over you, that you will obey him without question, but what Charlie just told you is far more worth. Because, how do you want to fight against something, if you don't know, how it feels like? You need to know, what to expect. Knowing the true effects of the curse, knowing what you will feel, will prepare you to fight against it, because no matter how real it feels, while you're under it, you will know that this is wrong.

"But while knowing what it feels like to be under the Imperius is very important, we may not neglect the importance of recognizing the outward signs of the curse. How do you recognize that your best friend is a victim of the Imperius? He may seem normal at first glance, but when you look closer, you will notice some actually pretty obvious signs – indifference, for one, absence of mind and neglect of friends are others. There are many more, but basically you simply have to look for differences in your friend's behaviour.

"And to show you, how the Imperius Curse works, I've asked Professor Weasley to help me with a presentation. I will perform the curse on him and then tell him to do something he would never do under normal circumstances." Immediately the students began to talk among themselves and Harry could catch words like 'forbidden' and 'Azkaban'. But still Harry went on as if nothing had happened. "Nothing, and I repeat, nothing of what will transpire here in this classroom, will leave the room. This contract you all signed made sure of that, as I've told you before. And now, please pay attention."

Harry and Ron turned to face each other and Harry raised his wand. His hand was trembling slightly and he closed his eyes to take a deep breath. He just had to tell himself over and over again that this was still harmless. The Imperius would not hurt his friend, maybe embarrass him a bit, but not hurt. "Come on, mate," Ron murmured, causing Harry to open his eyes again. Ron was looking at him with an encouraging smile on his face. "I'm waiting."

Nodding shortly, Harry pointed his wand at his friend and said, loudly and clearly, "Imperio!"

Harry saw how the stance of his friend slackened and then, when he gave his wand a small wave, Ron began to sing. Harry winced slightly. He knew that his friend couldn't hold a tune if his life depended on it, and somehow, this song made it even worse.

"Weasley cannot save a thing, he cannot block a single ring, that's why we all sing, Weasley's our King!"

A few students began to snigger, as Ron continued to sing this song passionately, and finally after a few minutes, Harry waved his wand again and Ron fell silent, even though it was still obvious that he was still under the curse.

"So, you think that's funny, huh?" Harry said seriously, effectively shutting the muttering and laughing students up. "What if I use my power over him to let him jump out of the window." Immediately, Ron began to walk to the side of the classroom, where the windows were. "Or, maybe even worse, if I let him kill one of you." Ron returned and drew his wand, pointing it at some point in the class. Harry waved his wand again and Ron snapped out of the curse, shaking his head to get rid of the cobwebs in his mind. "Listen, and listen carefully. The Imperius Curse is not funny. It's horrible what you can make people do and I want you to realize that. It may look and sound harmless at first glance, but there's a reason why the Imperius is one of the Unforgivables. Don't forget that.

"Now, what is according to the textbooks the second-worse Unforgivable?"

A few hands were raised again, and Harry picked a girl from Ravenclaw. "The Cruciatus Curse," she answered.

"Correct. The Cruciatus Curse. Also called the torture curse. I truly hope that no one of you ever had or will have to experience this curse. It's simply pain, excruciating pain. Your whole body is on fire. You can't stop it, you can't block it out. You only want it to end… or to die. Too long exposure to the curse will cause you to lose your mind. It will simply shut down, and if you don't die, your new home will be the closed ward for permanent spell damage at St. Mungo's." Harry thought of the Longbottoms, knowing that, if he didn't change anything in this time, this would be their fate in about a half year. "But to cast the curse, you'll really have to mean it. You really have to want to cause pain. Otherwise it won't work."

Harry hesitated, took a deep breath, and turned again to Ron. His hand was trembling even more than before and he noticed how Ron tensed considerably. "Do it," Ron mouthed and Harry closed his eyes. The tension in the classroom was almost tangible and Harry didn't even want to know what the students were thinking right now.

Gathering all of his courage, all of his anger at this situation, the anger at himself, he raised his wand. His eyes met Ron's and without thinking about it, Harry yelled forcefully, "Crucio!"

Immediately Ron fell to the ground, twitching, shaking, trashing, and worst of all, screaming. Harry gritted his teeth, as he kept his wand trained on his best friend. One girl began to cry, other students to shout, and then, after what seemed like an eternity, even though Harry knew that it was not even twenty seconds, he stopped the spell.

Harry felt positively sick, as he saw his best friend lying on the ground. Ron was breathing hard, obviously still in pain, and tears were streaming down his face. Hesitantly, Harry knelt down next to Ron, swallowing hard. "You alright?" This question sounded hollow in his ears, because Ron couldn't be alright. Not after this. What the bleeding hell had he been thinking, when he had planned this? And how could they get through this the whole week?

"Never been better," Ron muttered weakly and pushed himself up in a sitting position.

"Ron," Harry mumbled, but the redhead simply shook his head.

"Finish your lecture, mate," he interrupted Harry, as he slowly got up again and leaned heavily against the desk. "I'm gonna be okay…"

Uncertainly, Harry nodded. His gaze rested on his friend a little longer until he turned his full attention back to the class. "You needed to see this," he whispered hoarsely, as if it had been him, who had screamed so loudly just a minute ago. "You needed to know, how the curse affects a human being. Doing this with an animal just wouldn't have been enough."

"But, Professor," a girl from Gryffindor asked with a trembling voice. "You said that you have to want to cause pain to cast this curse effectively. But Professor Weasley is your friend, so how…"

Harry smiled grimly. "You're right. I wanted to cause pain. But not Ron, no, I would never want to cause Ron any pain. I wanted to cause myself pain, because I knew what effect the curse would have on him. You have no idea, how much you can despise yourself, when you have to do this to your best friend, what you would do to yourself. I tricked the curse. My feelings told the curse that I wanted to inflict pain, but the curse couldn't tell that it was me I wanted to inflict it on. I hope this answers your question."

The girl nodded timidly and scribbled something down on her parchment. Harry glanced to Ron and saw that his friend was trying to grin at him, probably to ease the guilt Harry felt. It was still more a grimace as a grin, but his friend's face had already regained some colour. Maybe, maybe they would get through this week after all.

"Now, the last curse."

Someone in the back squeaked, but Harry didn't pay any heed to this person. He guessed he knew what they were thinking now, but this time Harry would prove them wrong. _This_ was something he would _never_ do.

"Anyone?" No one raised his hand, something Harry had expected. They were all too shocked by the previous display to dare to say something now. Instead of telling them immediately, what the last curse was, however, Harry turned around and pointed his wand at the cute bunny on the desk. "Avada Kedavra!" he shouted and a beam of sickly green light hit the bunny. It was immediately dead. Some students screamed again, but Harry ignored them, too. "Avada Kedavra. The Killing Curse. It takes power to cast this one, but once you do and your victim isn't quick on his feet or can block the spell with a solid object, he's dead. No shield charm can stop this curse and there is no one who has survived being hit."

Harry absentmindedly rubbed his forehead. No one had survived the curse, yet.

"We will continue with the Unforgivables next lesson. Class dismissed." With a wave of his wand, all the spells he had cast on the room were lifted.

The students were obviously surprised by the sudden dismissal, but eventually all of them packed their bags and left the classroom. Not one of them was talking and this somehow conveyed the feeling as if they were leaving a funeral. Finally, when the last one was gone, Harry turned again to Ron.

"Are you really alright?"

Ron grinned at him again, and this time the grin really looked like a grin, even though he was still pale. "I've been a lot worse. Well, it's fifth years next, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Harry simply replied and gazed at the door, through which the next students would walk soon. Too soon for Harry's taste. And for the thousands time since the previous night, he wondered how he could have even gotten this stupid idea of asking Ron to do this for him.

"Oy, mate?" Harry's head whirled around, startled. Ron was gazing at him pleadingly. "Please… don't let me sing 'Weasley is our King' again!"

Harry laughed and Ron clapped him on the shoulder. If Ron was still able to crack jokes after this class, then maybe they would get through this week after all.

* * *

Neither Ron nor Harry turned up for lunch in the Great Hall. Instead they had a house-elf bring them some sandwiches into Harry's office. So it was first at dinner that the others saw those two friends again. Harry watched Ron warily, as they walked side by side up to the Head Table. His friend was dragging his feet a bit, as he was obviously completely ragged after four classes, in each of which he had to suffer through the pains of the Cruciatus Curse. He would have liked to send Ron back to their rooms and to bed immediately, but two things were preventing this. For one, it would look very suspicious, if Ron didn't turn up at dinner, and then Harry also knew that Ron was needed tonight. Because during dinner Ron would announce the big event that would take place at the end of the school year, as it had been his idea.

However, as they sat down at the table, Harry noticed that Hermione was looking at them strangely, but he ignored this look, as he filled his plate with some chicken, and inquired about her day.

"It was a bit… well, hard to teach today… For some reasons, the students that came from your lessons were really distracted," Hermione told him pointedly. "Care to explain what had them so preoccupied today?"

Harry sighed, as he cut the chicken and answered, "You know that I've started on the Unforgivables today. I believe this topic alone is more than enough to distract the students. Don't you remember how we were, after we've been taught about them?"

"Yes, of course," Hermione said. "But somehow… this was different. Some of the students really seemed to be troubled. I even had to excuse one girl, a seventh year on top of that, because she burst into tears in the middle of an exercise. Just tell me, Harry, what have you done to them?"

"I haven't done anything to them!" Harry defended himself. "I've just taken a leaf out of our teacher's old book. Maybe she's been sad about the bunny."

"You used a bunny?"

"Yeah," Harry told her. "I thought it would make more of an impression, if something that the students aren't scared of, will be the victim."

Ron suddenly barked out a laugh, causing not just Hermione and Harry to look at him curiously, but also the other teachers and a good part of the student body. Harry raised his eyebrow, but Ron just shook his head, grinning widely. "I just remembered something I once saw on Muggle TV back home… There was a show, where one of the characters was deadly afraid of bunnies."

"That's ridiculous," Harry snorted. "Why should someone be afraid of bunnies?"

"Well," Hermione then began in her 'teaching voice', "many fears are pretty irrational. Just look at your fear of spiders, Ron. Spiders are really useful animals and—"

"Yes, but they have way too many legs and way too many eyes… That's just scary!"

So it went back and forth between the three friends, while they were eating, debating about which fears were reasonable and which were not. It was really silly, Harry thought, but at least this discussion had gotten Hermione off his back.

Finally, just when the first students wanted to leave the Great Hall, after they had finished their dinner, Dumbledore rose and clapped his hands twice, immediately causing all conversations to cease and everyone to look to the Head Table. Harry still marvelled at how easily the entire student body was listening to Dumbledore, especially when he was using a simple gesture as this.

"Before the first of you leave to get some last minute homework done for tomorrow, I would like to have your attention for an announcement our flying instructor, Professor Weasley, would like to make. I assure you, you will all want to hear this." Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling merrily, as he sat down again and therewith opened the stage for Ron.

The redhead rose and nervously cleared his throat. Harry knew that Ron had never made a speech in front of such a huge crowd of people. Running his hand through his hair, Ron said, "Well, a couple of days ago, I had this idea… You see, I know that times are difficult right now, especially for you, never knowing what's going on at home, if your families are safe. And because of this, I think you all deserve some fun, something to take your minds off your worries. It was a rather spontaneous idea, believe me, but everyone I told about this was excited. You wonder now, what the hell I'm talking about?"

He grinned mischievously, as he looked around. It was hard not to notice, how everyone, even the Slytherins, were staring at Ron, willing him to continue. There were some calls from the students, as Ron hesitated much longer than necessary, obviously enjoying making them wait. Ron laughed, when one student yelled that he should hurry up.

"Okay, okay… What I'm talking about will take place at the end of the school year, when all the exams are written, on the last day before you return home. It's… a Quidditch match." Stunned silence met him at once, but then a student from Gryffindor pointed out that they already played Quidditch. Rubbing his hands excitedly, Ron told them, "Now, that's the special thing. This Quidditch match won't be like any other match. This match will be students versus teachers."

Harry saw that Ron wasn't finished yet, but whatever he wanted to say next was drowned out by a loud cheer from the students, which immediately turned into a lively and deafening discussion, in which even students of different houses talked to each other. Harry and Ron grinned at each other knowingly, and Harry was aware that the twinkle in Dumbledore's blue eyes was even stronger. Only Hermione rolled her eyes, most likely mumbling something about Quidditch obsessed boys, but there was still a small grin tugging at her lips.

"NOW!" Ron yelled after a moment and Harry was surprised that the students quickly settled down again. Their heads turned again to Ron and they were now looking at him eagerly, as if they had realized that Ron still hadn't told them everything they needed to know. "Before I was interrupted so rudely, I wanted to tell you something about the teams. There will just be two teams – one team for the students, which will consist of the best players of all four Houses, and one team for the teachers, which already stands. Do you want to know, who's playing?" Of course the students wanted to know and they let him known quite loudly. Ron chuckled. "Okay, first of all, as Keeper there's yours truly. Seeker will be Professor Potter, the three Chasers will be Professor Hayden, Professor Thatcher and Professor Flitwick. And last but not least, our two Beaters, who will be none others than Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall and Headmaster Albus Dumbledore."

This revelation was met with shocked silence, which quickly developed to excited chatter. Harry was glad that this happened at least at a bearable noise-level, so that Ron had no problems to get the attention of the now clearly excited students once again.

"Alright, that's the teachers' team. I'm sure you wonder, how the students' team will be put together. Now, this is another big surprise. Next Saturday, at the tryouts, an impartial judge will choose the players and the reserve players. I won't tell you who this judge is, because you'll see on Saturday, but I assure you, you _all_ know this judge." Ron winked at them. "Well, I think that's everything you need to know right now. The Heads of Houses will put lists on your notice boards with the exact date of the tryouts and on which you should put your name, if you want to try out for a position. Thanks for your attention."

As Ron sat down, the entire student body broke out in applause. Harry clapped him heartily on the back, laughing. "See? I told you they would love this idea!"

* * *

As the week progressed, Ron was constantly cornered, when he was in the halls, with students who wanted to ask questions about the upcoming match in June and, most importantly, about this mysterious judge. They had expected this reaction, but still, it put a lot of strain on Ron, additionally to the already incredibly exhausting and taxing role he played in Harry's classes that week. After each day, Harry saw that his friend looked paler, especially as dark rings appeared underneath his eyes, giving his already sallow complexion a somewhat haunted look, and Harry grew even more worried for his friend after each time he put them through the excruciating agony of the torture curse.

By Thursday night, Ron just dropped into an armchair in their common room, even too exhausted to go to dinner. Harry, not feeling like going to dinner either, called upon a house-elf, who then brought them some dinner. While Harry was eating, he noticed that Ron didn't touch his food at all. Immediately the full load of guilt for putting his best friend through his came crashing down on him. Putting his own plate back down on the table, Harry said, "We'll stop."

"What?" Ron asked tiredly, barely raising his head an inch from the backrest.

"The lessons," Harry clarified. "We'll stop. It's not worth this, and I should have realized this much sooner. I'm sorry, Ron. I should've never asked you."

Now more alert, Ron turned his pained blue eyes to Harry. "Just what the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about my lessons. Tomorrow, I will use animals to show the effect of the curse. I—"

"No," interrupted Ron him. "I know that you're talking about the lessons. But what does it mean that you want to stop? Why now? It's just one more day. You know that the effect will be much greater with me. I can get through that."

"Can get through what?" Hermione's voice suddenly asked from the doorway.

Harry's and Ron's wide surprised eyes turned to Hermione, who was frowning at them. "Nothing," Ron answered with a weak laugh. "Just bearing the questions of the students about the Quidditch match. They're really annoying, you know?"

"Don't lie to me, Ronald Weasley," Hermione whispered through gritted teeth. Her fists were balled so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. Ron flinched under her gaze, and when her head whipped around to Harry, this young man winced as well. "Bunnies, huh? Harry Potter, I can't believe this! All week, I didn't want to realize this, but I can't turn a blind eye to this any longer. Just what the bloody hell were you thinking?" she screeched.

Harry hung his head ashamed, not knowing what to say, but he didn't need to, as Ron suddenly spoke up. "Harry didn't want to do this," Ron told her, almost in a whisper. "He just presented this idea. I could tell how much he hated himself, when he asked me. I could've said no, but I saw his point. Hermione, the students need to know! No animal could convey the impression of what the victim really goes through. And it's just a few seconds, anyway. I can take this."

"Even a few seconds under the Cruciatus Curse are too much, Ron," Hermione said, and Harry saw the tears in her eyes, as her whole body was trembling. "Nothing is worth experiencing this pain."

"You're wrong," Ron told her, slowly rising from the armchair, wincing with every movement. He carefully walked up to her and gently grabbed her shoulders. "Look at me, Hermione." She slowly raised her eyes to meet his. "The students are worth this. We are living in dark times, 'Mione, and they really need to know. They need to be scared away from the curses. Many junior Death Eaters had no idea what they were dealing with until they had already taken the Mark. And then, it was already too late. Not many of them are as lucky as Malfoy. Do you understand?"

They were looking at each other for a long time, and Harry noticed that Hermione was lost in her thoughts, until she finally nodded. "I see your point. But you're both so stupid," she mumbled eventually, now looking at both of them. "If… if you had told me, I could've helped you."

"How?" Harry asked, as he too rose from his chair and went to them.

Hermione's eyes met his with a determined gaze, as her back straightened almost unconsciously. "Ron and I could've taken turns. We could've shared this burden. As a matter of fact, I think Ron should stay in bed tomorrow and I will take his place."

"'Mione!" Ron shouted. "No!"

But Harry simply looked at her and, after a moment, nodded. "Alright." It was only one more day. And he knew that the look in Hermione's eyes allowed no arguments. No matter how much it would hurt both of them, tomorrow Hermione would be lying on the ground, screaming and writhing in pain.

For this, Harry knew, he would be burning in hell.


	32. Hogwarts' Seven

**Chapter 32: Hogwarts' Seven**

Saturday dawned brightly at Hogwarts, much too brightly in Harry's opinion, as he still blinked sleepily against the glaring morning light that shone through the windows into their common room. He was holding a steaming mug of black coffee in one hand, while trying to keep a much more awake baby-Harry from falling off his lap with the other and at the same time trying to listen to what his parents were talking about. Harry realized that multitasking definitely was hard to achieve that early in the morning.

If he had known that his parents would visit him this morning, and so early on top of that, Harry wouldn't have spent half the night correcting all the essays he had collected from his students over the course of the week. He had no idea, when exactly he had finally finished the last essay and gotten to bed, but he knew for sure that he hadn't gotten enough sleep when there had suddenly been a knock at his door and his father's head peeking into his room with a mischievous grin on his face.

Harry suppressed a sigh, as he took another sip of his black coffee, before exchanging the cup in his hand with a piece of the croissant the house-elf had brought up, and dipped it into the jam. His parents had just wanted to surprise him, wanting to have breakfast with him and then spend some more time with him, before the try-outs for the Hogwarts Team began. Harry could even understand them, as they hadn't seen much of each other in the past few weeks, apart from a Floo-call or an owl now and then. But still, did they have to come so incredibly early at eight o'clock? It was Saturday for Merlin's sake.

At least Ron and Hermione were still asleep and they would be so for another few hours, if Harry had any say in it. He had even made sure of this and placed Silencing Charms on their doors, so that they wouldn't be woken up by Harry and his parents. Both of them had suffered enough, Ron already almost the whole week and Hermione the day before. Even though Ron had spent the whole day in bed on Friday, he had still been exhausted at night, and Hermione had also looked pretty tired after having suffered the Cruciatus Curse three times in his classes. They deserved the rest and to give them this respite was the least he could do to begin to make up for what he had put them through.

Harry still wasn't sure, if he could ever forgive himself for this.

But at least his method seemed to have been successful. He had shocked his students and he was sure that they were now regarding the Unforgivable Curses much more warily than before. They knew now, why those curses were forbidden, what they could do, how much they hurt other people. Harry hoped that this would make a difference, even a small one, to the students, especially to the ones from Slytherin, who were, sadly enough, the most susceptible to the Dark Arts.

"Harry? Are you listening?"

Harry looked up, as Lily's voice startled him out of his thoughts. The baby Harry was tugging at the collar of his black T-shirt, gazing up at him with wide green eyes. "Sorry," he shook his head. "What did you say?"

"I told you, Lily, that we should wait until lunch to come over," James said chuckling. "Harry's about to fall asleep again."

"It's okay…" Harry smiled slightly. "Just give me some more coffee and the caffeine will keep me awake long enough to get through this day."

James laughed loudly, which earned a delighted squeak from little Harry. "That's the spirit. But, just be glad that it isn't you today out there on the brooms."

Grinning, Harry put the piece of croissant into his mouth and now used both hands to keep little Harry from wriggling free. It had taken some time, and it was still somewhat weird, but Harry had finally gotten used to seeing and playing with his baby self. His mother had even once commented, when she had seen them together, that he would make a great father. (Harry had only blushed and mumbled, "Maybe someday." But at the same moment images of red haired and green eyed children had flashed in front of his eyes.) Once he had securely wrapped both of his arms around the little boy on his lap and therewith preventing him from breaking free, Harry said, "Yeah, but I'll be up there soon enough. And with Ron as Captain, I'm sure he will put us through the mill."

"Is he that bad?" Lily asked, sounding somewhat worried.

James and Harry exchanged a quick glance, before both of them suddenly burst out laughing. Lily immediately crossed her arms over her chest and began to scowl, which just softened slightly, as James kissed her on the head. "Lily, pet, I love you dearly, but you just don't know anything about what it means to play Quidditch."

"It's a dangerous sport," Lily muttered irritated. "I can't even remember, how often you had to visit the Hospital Wing after a match! And I don't even want to know, how often you had to spend time there, Harry. Really, I never saw the sense in this game. What makes it so interesting to see fourteen men fly around on brooms and try to catch and avoid flying balls?"

Harry and James just gaped at her in mock astonishment, before James shook his head. "How can someone not like Quidditch?"

"It happens," Harry shrugged, having to suppress a yawn. "Just look at Hermione… She's never been really excited about it before. But at least Ginny loves Quidditch."

The moment those words escaped his lips, Harry knew that he had said too much in his sleep deprived state. Until now, all of them had carefully avoided mentioning Ginny. The Weasleys were still thinking that Molly was expecting another boy and they wanted them to be surprised, when she gave birth to a girl in August. Besides, Harry didn't know, if he felt comfortable about his parents knowing the name of the girl he wouldn't mind spending the rest of his life with. Who knows what would happen in this time later, if, no, when Harry had killed Voldemort – his parents might get the crazy idea to play matchmaker between his younger self and the Ginny of this time.

The grin on James' face was wolfish, as he teased, "So, that's the name of the young woman you fancy?"

"James," Lily admonished him, though there was also a secret and slightly teasing smile on her face. "I'm sure Harry will tell us about Ginny, when he's ready."

"Oh, come on, Lils!" James exclaimed. "I've been fishing for some information about this mystery girl for so long, and now, when our son finally talks about her, you don't want to hear it?"

Harry felt his face heat up and simply knew that his whole face was as red as a beetroot. Why couldn't he have just watched what he was saying? It was bad enough that his father was often dropping not so subtle hints about wanting to know more about Harry's 'mystery girl', but having gotten himself into this situation was even worse. "Can we please not talk about this?" he muttered, staring down at the mop of black hair on baby Harry's head.

"See, James? Now you've embarrassed him!" Lily scolded her husband and whacked him over the back of his head.

"Oi, woman! That hurt!"

"I hope so," Lily sniffed indignantly. "That will teach you to interrogate your son, as if he were a criminal." Harry was grateful for her words, hoping that his father would now really finally stop, but somehow he already knew that his hopes would be in vain. He had gotten to know his father quite well in the course of the last few months and from what he had learned he could tell that James Potter was not going to give up – not, when he could use the information for further teasing. However, when Lily turned towards Harry, and he saw the mischievous smirk on her face, Harry almost groaned. "However, Harry, I can understand, if you don't want to tell your father about things like that, but you know that you can always come to me, when you want some advice."

After hearing her words, Harry actually had to groan, and hung his head, wondering why the ground wouldn't swallow him, when he so desperately wanted it to. All the time, he had envied the relationship Ron had with his parents, even if they were embarrassing him, but now that he had first-hand experience of it, he wished he didn't have to go through that.

Okay, Harry didn't really mean that. A small grin lit up his face, as he looked down at the squeaking and wriggling baby on his lap. Of one thing, Harry was sure. When they left this time in a few months, when the potion was finished, he would never forget the time he had been able to spend with his parents.

* * *

It was almost time for lunch, when the door to Ron's room finally opened and the redhead entered the common room with a loud yawn. His hair was still slightly damp from a shower, and Harry had to admit that his friend already looked a lot better than the day before, but the dark shadows underneath Ron's eyes were still too visible for his taste. Still, when Harry looked into his friend's eyes, he could see the sparkle of anticipation for what would take place this afternoon – the try-outs.

"Good morning!" he greeted them loudly, after he had hesitated for a second, when he had seen Lily, James and baby Harry in the room.

The youngest Potter was currently sitting on Hermione's lap, who had taken him immediately after she had joined them in the common room at about half past nine. While Harry was getting used to spending time with his baby-self, it was still a bit embarrassing to see one of his friends playing or holding him. It reminded him somehow of that one awkward time, when Remus had shared some old baby-pictures of him with his friends.

"Good day, Ron," Harry replied with a smirk. "You're just in time. We just wanted to go to the Great Hall for a quick lunch before the try-outs."

At that moment a low rumble came from Ron's direction and he sheepishly scratched the back of his head. "Lunch? Sounds great. I'm starving! I could eat a whole Hippogriff!"

"I don't doubt that, mate," Harry laughed. Turning to his parents, he smiled, "Are you coming, too?"

"Of course," James winked at him. "I would never want to miss the excitement of the kids… You still haven't told anyone, who that impartial judge will be, have you?"

Harry laughed, while Ron had to suppress a snicker. Hermione simply rolled her eyes, muttering something about making such a big deal out of such a small event. Harry rolled his eyes good-naturedly, when he heard her mutterings, but Lily, who obviously shared Hermione's sentiments, simply exchanged one look with the other young woman. Both of them giggled and then strode off, climbed through the portray that was guarding their rooms and disappeared in the direction of the Great Hall. The three remaining men just shook their heads and turned to follow them.

"Women," Ron mumbled. "I don't think I'll ever understand them."

"Well, Ron," James put a hand on his shoulder, "I've been married to one for a couple of years and I still don't get her most of the time. But thanks to those lovely ladies, none of you answered my question."

Ron grinned at James wickedly. "Nope," he said, plopping the 'p', "no one knows but the professors and some other staff at Hogwarts. We really didn't want the word to get out. It will be a huge surprise and I want to see the faces of the students, when we introduce her."

"It's a woman?" James asked astounded.

Harry and Ron exchanged a quick grin. "Well," Harry answered, sounding completely innocent. "Didn't I just prove to you a few hours ago that there are also women who like Quidditch?"

"W-wait!" James sputtered, as they turned another corner on their way to the Great Hall. "You're not saying that this… Ginny… is the impartial judge! But when you… in your time… she has to be… _old_!"

Harry saw Ron turning to him again, this time with a confused look on his face. The redhead mouthed 'Ginny?', but Harry simply smirked, giving his head a light shake. Without saying a word, he put his arm around his friend's shoulders and picked up the pace, leaving a very stunned James Potter behind. The smirk grew wider, when he heard his father call after him and then caught the sound of faster footsteps behind him. Let him believe what he wanted to believe, Harry thought, still smirking, at least as long as it was still possible, seeing as the try-outs for the students' Quidditch team was after lunch. Because then his father would find out that the name of the judge wouldn't be Ginny. However, Harry was still looking forward to not just seeing the students' faces, but also his father's face.

The Great Hall was already full and as if Dumbledore had already expected it, the High Table was already extended for the guests and Lily and Hermione were already waiting. James had caught up to them in the meantime, but he was sulking, as he followed the two friends to the High Table. Harry sat down on one of the free chairs, with Ron next to him. There was another free chair between him and Lily, which James took.

Upon seeing the pout on her husband's face, Lily asked, "What's happened?"

"Harry's," he shot Harry a dark look, "_mystery girl_ appears to be at least twice his age!"

Hermione, who hadn't heard this conversation, immediately began to cough violently on the bite of the sandwich she had just taken. Lily gently clapped her on the back, instructing her to take deep breaths through the nose. Even though her face was dark red, Hermione eventually nodded that she was alright. After having taken another deep breath, she just sputtered, "What? How did you get this idea?"

"Well… he said… and I… I just…" James turned towards Harry, who had by now a really wide grin on his face, as finally the pieces clicked into place. "You… I can't believe it! You pranked me!"

"I learned from the best," Harry simply said and winked at him. "Not to forget two other persons, who I'd rather not name now, but who will be infamous in their own way, I promise."

"I can't believe it…" James mumbled, shaking his head in disbelief. Harry began to grin widely. He was sure that it didn't happen often, that the leader of the infamous Marauders got pranked. However, the shocked look on James' face was quickly replaced by a wicked smirk, as he retaliated: "Well, you know what this means… war."

Harry saw that his mother and Hermione rolled their eyes, but when he exchanged a quick glance with Ron, the redhead was grinning, his blue eyes sparkling with interest in the most-likely soon to be ensuing prank war. Reaching with his hand over, to shake his father's hand, Harry said, "Let the best pranker win."

James shook his son's hand eagerly. "Your funeral."

"Oh, believe me, James," Harry grinned and gesturing subtly to the scar on his forehead. "I'm not that easy to kill."

When the lunch hour was slowly coming to an end, Harry noticed that slowly more and more students left the Great Hall – a bigger group much sooner than the others - instead of lingering until the end. It was weekend after all, but he knew just like everyone else that this afternoon, in not even half an hour to be precise, something much more exciting than the usual weekend activities was taking place.

Nearly every Quidditch player, no matter if regular or reserve, and even some other students, who weren't on a team, had put down their names on the list they had hung on the notice boards in the four common rooms. All in all, about fifty people would come to the pitch to try out for the Hogwarts Team. All of them were eager to play against the Teacher's Team, hoping that they would win. Well, they hadn't trained yet, but Harry was sure that their team would prove to be a challenge for the students.

Finally it was time to go, as Ron got up to prepare everything. Harry had agreed to help him setting everything up and most importantly meeting their impartial judge. Until now, only Ron had talked to her, but Harry had to admit that he too was looking forward to meeting her. And then he couldn't wait to see the expression on his father's face, as he had found out that James was secretly a huge fan of her.

When he noticed that Harry and Ron were getting up, James also jumped up from his seat, eagerly rubbing his hands. Harry thought that James reminded him of a small child on Christmas morning. "You ladies going to come, too?" James asked Lily and Hermione.

"No, I don't think so," Hermione answered. "I'm going to keep Draco some company." She shook her head with a small grin on his face. "If Poppy keeps him much longer in the Hospital Wing, I swear he'll get even crankier. He's already almost insufferable. Especially seeing as he'd really like to be a part of the Teacher's Team."

"Well, you have to be a bit more understandable, Hermione," James said, returning her grin. "If _I_ were in his place, I would have already fled, no matter how much Poppy threatens me."

"Believe me," she chuckled. "He's tried." Dapping the corner of her mouth with her napkin, she too rose from her seat, followed by Lily.

"Wait," James suddenly said, when he saw that his wife was about to follow Hermione. "Don't tell me that you're going to miss this!"

"Why not? I think I'd rather spent some time visiting a poor soul in the Hospital Wing than spending the afternoon watching people get knocked off of broomsticks. We'll see you later, when you boys are finished playing ball." Winking at James, Lily settled Harry comfortable on her hip and strode off to the doors of the Great Hall. Hermione simply shrugged with an apologetic smile before following her.

One again, James simply shook his head. "Women…" However, as soon as they were out of sight, he turned to Harry and Ron with an eager grin on his face. "Okay… Let's get this started! I finally wanna know, who this mysterious judge is!"

* * *

The stands at the Quidditch pitch were already filled with many curious spectators, but if they were all there because they wanted to know who was going to make the team or if they just wanted to see who the judge was going to be, Harry didn't know. Maybe a bit of both and at least one of those mysteries was going to be resolved in just a few minutes.

The three men walked to the trainers' locker room underneath the stands, where she was told to wait for them. And just as he had expected, Harry saw her standing in her full Quidditch dress – dark green robes with a golden talon upon her chest. Next to her, one of the best brooms of this time was lying – the _Meteor_. She smiled at them, as they stepped inside.

Ron immediately went up to her and shook her tanned hand, returning her smile fully. "Samira, I'm so glad you could make it!"

"Nice too see you again, Ron," she replied, and tossed her long blonde braid over her shoulder, as she let go off his hand. "I've heard there are quite a few volunteers."

"Oh yes, there are," Ron grinned. "Samira, I'd like to introduce two friends of mine. First my best mate Harry and then his second or third cousin once or twice removed James." He motioned at the two young men, but while Harry already knew, who was going to be the judge and politely greeted the woman, James was openly gaping at her.

"You're Samira Masen!"

"So I was told," Samira grinned, obviously already used to such behaviour of her fans. "Samira Masen, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies, at your service. But most people simply call me Samira."

Harry looked at his father and saw something that he had never expected to see. His father was blushing, his face a deep red colour, as he shook hands with Samira. And the relief was evident in his eyes, when Ron began to talk again.

"Well," he rubbed his hands eagerly, "what do you think, Samira? I believe we've let the kids wait long enough."

"Okay, then let's get going!" Her good mood and enthusiasm was infectious and Harry found himself grinning along with her. She reminded him slightly of a hyperactive child, even though she was athletically built and rather tall for a woman.

The four of them left the locker room and walked out to the pitch, where the large group that had signed up was waiting already, brooms ready in their hands. James quickly excused himself and went up the stands to watch the spectacle from above. Seeing as Samira was walking behind Ron and Harry, who were still a bit taller than her, no one saw her until all three of them came to a stop directly in front of the group.

Some students gasped in surprise, when they saw her, alerting some other volunteers. But it wasn't until Ron cleared his throat and all eyes were directed at them that everyone saw her. Ron's grin grew even wider, if possible. "Hello, everybody!" he greeted them. "I know you're all terribly excited and because of this, I don't want to let you wait any longer! Please welcome our impartial judge, who will also be your trainer in the following weeks – Samira Masen, Team Captain of the Holyhead Harpies!"

A loud cheer went not just through the group, but also through the stands, and Samira was welcomed with much more than just a simple applause, which wouldn't stop until Ron blew the whistle he had conjured.

"Thank you, everybody!" Samira said smiling. "Now, this is going to be easy. First of all, I want you all to fly a few laps around the pitch. I will fly with you and those who I tap on the shoulder come into the next round. I will tell you when to stop and I ask those that I didn't tap to move back onto the stands, so that we have enough space with the next drills. And now, up into the air with you!"

It quickly became evident that not all of those who had signed up for the Team really had the talent for playing Quidditch. Especially the first years were having a hard time flying the laps, but also a few others. While Ron and Harry were watching from the ground, Samira was in the air with the students, scrutinizing each and every one of them. And Harry could tell that she really knew what she was doing, that she had the eye for talents among the students, as only fifteen minutes later she called the students to a halt and about half of the students retreated disappointedly to the stands.

"Now, before I continue, I want to tell you something, so that you can make a decision, if you want to go on or not." She cleared her throat. "My training will be really hard. I don't tolerate tardiness or laziness. We will train in all kinds of weather – no matter if the sun is beating down on you or if there's a blizzard freezing everything in sight. Now, if you're not ready to give your all during training, I also have to ask you to go to the stands." When no one moved, she smiled again. "I really should have known that there are more people out there who are as crazy about Quidditch as I am." This drew some laughs out of the students and the whole atmosphere immediately became a lot more relaxed. "Great… Let's go on! All of you who want to be Chasers go over there. Seekers over there, Beaters over there and Keepers to that side!"

The group immediately parted to go to their assigned places and just a short moment later, Harry watched in fascination, how she professionally put each of them through their paces. There was no chaos, no complains from a student, when she told them that they had to improve and were unfortunately not yet good enough to play. He was deeply impressed by how much respect the students were having and how they listened to each and every word from her.

Asking her to do this was really one of Ron's best ideas.

The sun was slowly starting to sink, when finally the Hogwarts Team was complete. There had been a draw with the Seekers – between Charlie Weasley and the Slytherin Seeker, Lisa Scarborough. In the end, after a tough race after the Snitch, Charlie hat secured the spot on the team, with Lisa being a reserve. That's also one thing Harry liked about Samira – she had not just put together a team, but also found a reserve for each player. And not just that – there were players from all four houses on the team.

From Gryffindor there was Charlie Weasley as Seeker and the third year girl Emerson as one Chaser. One other Chaser was from the Slytherin team, Denton, and the last one was Jonathan Kane from Hufflepuff. The Keeper was a surprisingly small, but really agile girl from Slytherin, who wasn't even on the House Team. But even Harry had to admit that this girl, Winters, showed a lot of promise. And then there were the Beaters. One of them came from the Hufflepuff House Team. Lizzy Brandon was in her fifth year and her new fellow Beater was Gwenog Jones, a Ravenclaw in her seventh and last year at Hogwarts. And after Harry had seen them fly together just a few minutes ago, he had to admit that they would be a really good team.

Harry realized suddenly that the Hogwarts' Seven were going to be a force to be reckoned with.

"Hey!" Harry suddenly heard Samira call, but she didn't seem to be angry, as she walked up to the group of Beaters and reserve Beaters. A smirk spread over Harry's face, as he realized who was going to be her target. Samira looked a bit smug, as she stopped in front of a seventh year, a pale girl with long chestnut coloured hair. "Jones, right?"

"Y-Yes?" the girl replied, looking at Samira, most likely her idol, with wide eyes.

"Trainer Clapp told me about you," she said smugly. "He's met you last year at old Sluggy's summer party and he's said that you've got promise. And I must say, I've gotta agree with him."

"Th-thanks…"

"You're in your last year, aren't you?" The girl nodded affirmatively. "Do you have any plans for what you're going to do after Hogwarts?"

"I'm not sure…" the girl answered, suddenly blushing. "The only thing I've ever been interested in is Quidditch."

As if she had waited for his answer, Samira's face broke out into a huge grin, as she grabbed the girl's shoulder. "Well, let me tell you something. One of our Beaters has just retired, which means that we need some fresh blood on the team, and if you're flying in our training and in the game just as well as you did just now…" Samira let the sentence trail off, but she winked at the girl before she turned around and walked back towards Harry, Ron and James. "Hey, Weasley!" she called with a smug smirk. "Are you ready to get your arse kicked?"

"Dream on!" Ron called back, grinning widely. "Your team will be squashed! But come on, let's get some dinner first!"

* * *

The weekend passed much too quickly for Harry's taste and soon it was already Monday evening, time for the weekly staff meeting. And the Monday wasn't starting off too well. All of the important things concerning school had been talked about and the only persons who still remained in the staff room were the members of the Quidditch team of the staff, who had all somewhat gloomy looks on their faces.

"Well," Ron cleared his throats, as he looked around the six other persons in the room. "As it appears, we need a new Chaser."

Harry nodded grimly along with his announcement. Earlier in the meeting Elizabeth Thatcher, Arithmancy professor and Chaser on their team, had announced that she unfortunately couldn't play in the match. Actually, considering the reason for this, this was happy news for her, but not so good for the team, because just the night before, after she had gone to the Hospital Wing with some stomach troubles, Poppy had announced that the professor was expecting a child and should under no circumstances play a sport as dangerous as Quidditch.

And now, they didn't know what to do about the open spot. No other teacher felt capable of filling the spot, as most of them had never played in a game and weren't that good on a broom anyway. At least not good enough to make them competent players in the next few weeks.

"What about recruiting someone else, someone who isn't part of our staff?" Flitwick suggested. "James Potter for example. I believe that he might make a good addition to our team."

McGonagall shook her head sadly. "I don't think this would be fair. This tournament is supposed to be students against teachers and not students against teachers and old students."

Suddenly, after the occupants of the room had fallen into a thoughtful silence, each of them wondering how to solve this problem, the door swung open. Harry looked up, startled out of his thoughts, and upon seeing the person standing in the doorway, a grin began to spread across his face, as he realized what this meant.

Draco Malfoy, dressed in black robes and looking as if he had never been sick, had his arms crossed over his chest and was looking at them with a superior smirk on his face. "A little bird whispered to me that you need a Chaser. Well, here I am."


	33. The Princess's Tale

**A/N: Sorry again for this incredible long wait, but I've been too exhausted after this past year at university to do much in the break between terms. But after all, I've finally got my bachelor's degree and I'll continue now with the Master of Education. **

**But thanks for the many reviews for the last chapter and I hope you'll like this chapter – it hasn't been easy to write, but necessary – and that it will make up for the long wait.**

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Chapter 33: The Princess's Tale

Harry raised his right hand to shield his eyes, as he looked up at the bright sun nearly burning down on him. It was May and summer seemed to start really early in Scotland this year, at least according to the temperatures. There hadn't been any rain and just small white clouds for the past few days and the weather forecast on the Wizarding Wireless said that it would stay that way for the coming weeks, maybe even until the end of school. A few birds were in the sky above him and all in all, it seemed really peaceful.

Yes, peaceful was the right word. Nothing had happened in the course of the past couple of weeks. Somehow, since Harry had faced Voldemort for the first time in person in this timeline, the Dark Lord had been lying low. Not even Severus had any news concerning plans Voldemort might have told them. As a matter of fact, the Death Eater meetings had been few and far between, too. Harry could almost say that life was boring, but he wasn't complaining, as there were still plenty of other things he had to do.

For one, he had of course still seven years of students to teach Defence and this wasn't proving to be easier now that the exams were looming at the horizon. Next to some new topics he still wanted to cover with his students, he also helped them to revise a lot. At first the students had complained, when he had sprung the first pop quiz on them, but now they were really grateful for this, as this ensured that they were actually revising and not just dreaming over their notes.

Another thing that kept them, or rather mostly Hermione, Draco and Severus, busy was the potion that was simmering down in one of the dungeon's private potions labs. Harry was really glad to have two Potion Masters and with Hermione, Lily and Clara also other persons who were much better at potions than Harry or Ron would ever be, at hand for this complicated concoction. Harry knew that if he had been forced to brew this potion, the cauldron would have exploded at least a hundred times by now, despite his great O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s results. He also shouldn't forget that the potion had just passed its early stages and was going to get even more complicated than it already was.

No, Harry couldn't be happier that this was something he didn't have to deal with. For now, he was enjoying the peace and tried to ignore the nagging feeling that Voldemort might be planning something big.

However, the peace didn't last long, as suddenly a hard black ball whooshed past Harry and his eyes followed the ball, startled out of his thoughts. "Bloody hell, Harry!" Ron yelled from his position in front of the three hoops. "Pay attention and watch out!"

"Sorry, Ron!" he called back with a sheepish grin on his face and swerved the broom, so that he could watch over the whole Quidditch pitch. When he couldn't spot the Golden Snitch anywhere, Harry suddenly began to dive. A bright smile lit up his face, as he sped towards the ground, the wind rushing past his face. His eyes began to water, as he gained speed, and he pulled up just merely an inch over the grass. His broom was nearly vertical, as he now rose higher and higher, past the other players, until he eventually stopped high over the pitch.

Quidditch, oh how much he had missed this sport! He would always be grateful for Ron's simply fantastic idea. Otherwise he had no idea, when he would have gotten the chance – if ever – to play this game again. Dodging violent Bludgers, stray Quaffles and fellow players, all the time speeding through the air looking for the tiny Golden Snitch. While doing all this, Harry could almost forget everything else, all the worries that were still plaguing him. Even though Ron was almost worse than a slave driver, Harry almost couldn't remember having that much fun.

And it was just getting better, Harry grinned, as he finally spotted a golden glint near the Hufflepuff stands. Without warning, he leaned forward and the broom accelerated to its top speed. Still, Harry urged it on even more and he would have collided with the stands, if he hadn't pulled up at the last second, the Golden Snitch securely in his right hand.

Shouts of relief came from the other players and if Harry didn't know better, he might almost think that his team-mates were students instead of teachers, who were happy that practice was finally over. Harry winked at Ron and joined him and the others on the ground. They had been on the brooms for three hours already and had just been waiting for Harry to finally catch the Snitch, because Ron had made one rule at the beginning – after he had seen how hard the students' team trained – and this was that the practice would first stop, when Harry had caught the Snitch.

Now, if Harry had been giving his best, he would have caught the Snitch already after seventeen minutes, but he and Ron had agreed that he would wait at least two hours until he caught it. Otherwise practice would end far too soon. Still, to stay in shape, Harry still chased after the Snitch every time he saw it and always pulled his hand back again, when his fingers touched the small ball.

Harry was the last to land in the middle of the pitch and he wiped the damp strands of black hair from his sticky forehead. Even though he had been high up in the sky and there should be enough wind to keep him cool, he was still sweating. But the others didn't look much better, and, he had to admit, it was an amusing sight to see Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall, both still clutching their Beater's bat in their right hands, with red faces and windswept hair, dressed in the purple Quidditchrobes that had been designed for the teachers. Harry was still getting used to seeing them like this, but they were doing a great job, or to quote Ron: "Dumbledore and McGonagall are simply bloody brilliant! They could even give Fred and George a run for their money!"

"Alright," called Ron with a smile on his face. "Good training. We're really starting to play as a team and we're getting pretty damn good, if I may say so. _But_ I watched the students' practice yesterday and they're getting very good, too. We may never underestimate them, because in my opinion, the kids are going to be a force to be reckoned with. Well, you may all go now. Next practice is tomorrow, same time, same place. See you at dinner!"

A collective grumble of 'Finally's and 'See you later's came as answer and most of the other teachers began to retreat to the castle. Only Harry and Draco stayed back with Ron to help him put back the balls and other items they had used during the training. While they were struggling to catch the two Bludgers and to get them back into the crate and putting the chains around them, they were talking, mostly about the practice. Harry and Draco both shared Ron's opinion of their team having become very good in the course of the past few weeks, but while Draco was pretty enthusiastic about the game and their chances – he was almost giddy at being allowed to play again – Harry pointed out that they had also seen the students and that he knew that it would be incredible hard to beat them.

Still, not just the students had a good team. While he had been sceptical at first, Harry had realized after a few training sessions that he had been wrong. He had never expected Albus, Minerva or Filius, who were all already pretty old after all, to be able to play as well as they did, but in reality they were even much better than good. There was a force behind the blows with which Albus and Minerva hit the Bludgers that belied their ages, and Filius was just the right size to weave agilely through the fast Bludgers and other players and still play the Quaffle at the same time.

They had a chance, he realized with a grin, because otherwise they still faced the same problems as the other team. Both of their teams were new, they all had to get used to their new team-mates and had to learn to play with each other and not against each other, as especially the Gryffindors and Slytherins were wont to do. Still, the teachers had the advantage on their side that the students might underestimate them, especially Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall.

However, when he had watched their training, he had been surprised at how well the four houses cooperated. Basically, instead of just being a fun event, this Quidditch match was just one step further towards the unity of the four rivalling houses. Maybe they really could change more in this time than they had thought.

After they had also put the Quaffle and Snitch into their respective holes in the crate, Ron closed the wooden box and together the three young men walked back to the shed, where all the equipment for Quidditch was stored – a couple of crates with the four balls, school brooms and other spare parts that might be needed. However, on the way to the shed, they saw Hermione and Lily, who appeared to be walking in their direction. The two young women waved cheerfully, as they saw them and they met just a minute later in the middle.

"Are you finally finished with practice?" asked Hermione, sounding slightly annoyed. But there was a smile on her face, and Harry thought that she might just be the tiniest bit excited for the game. After all, the whole school was completely crazy about this event, so it would just be unnatural, if she were not infected by this mood.

"Yes, finally!" Draco exclaimed, as he swung an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close against his side. Somehow, after his near death experience Draco seemed to have become more open, especially concerning his feelings for Hermione. And Harry could see that Hermione liked it a lot, at least much better than just being close to him behind closed doors. "Weasley's a real slave-driver."

"Oi, shut up!" Ron laughed. "If I remember correctly, you wanted to be on the team, even though you were still weak. Maybe I should tell Poppy that you had to stop the first practice short, because you weren't feeling good."

"Don't you dare, Weasley!" Draco threatened, but there was a smirk tugging at his lips, which quickly turned into a pained grimace, as Hermione's sharp elbow in his rips. "Ow… Granger!"

"You said you were fine!" she hissed at him, much to the amusement of the others.

"I was fine! It was just some overexertion during the first practice. I've lost a lot of my stamina, and don't forget all those muscles, spending all those months in bed! It was terrible!" Draco growled defensively and playfully shoved Hermione away. She was still trying to glare at him, but Harry saw that she couldn't stay mad at Draco for long, not when he was obviously so happy at being able to play again, especially with almost having lost him.

"But he's fine now?" Hermione asked, turning to Ron and Harry.

Harry nodded solemnly, but there was a slight smirk tugging at his lips. "Yes, don't worry, Hermione. He's back to his old self, unfortunately, if I may say so."

"Hey!" Draco protested.

"Oh, don't worry, Draco," Hermione smiled. "It might be true, but I still love you."

"Ugh…" Ron imitated gagging. "It's getting mushy. You coming, Harry?"

"You go ahead, Ron," Harry told him, as he looked at his mother. It was rare that he got the opportunity to see her now, when she wasn't somehow occupied with the potion or when his father wasn't with her. In the past few weeks he had either never had the chance to talk to her or he had chickened out, but Harry began to think that he couldn't push this conversation off much longer. "Lily, would you like to take a walk with me?"

Lily smiled brightly at him. "I'd love to. You don't mind, do you?" she asked Hermione.

"No, of course not," Hermione said, but she was giving Harry an imploring glance. She knew that he had kept this conversation off for so long and had been pestering him repeatedly to talk to her. Both she and Ron had seen how much this whole thing between Snape and his mother had bothered him. "We'll see you at dinner. Come, Draco, Ron… Let's go. You guys seriously need a shower." She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "You stink."

Harry watched the three of them go, Ron and Hermione having immediately started to bicker about whether it was an important part of Quidditch to see (and smell) how hard you've worked, with the occasional input from Draco's side, which mostly supported Ron, much to Hermione's aggravation.

When they were out of earshot, Harry turned to Lily and smiled, lightly shaking his head. "Those three… Well, then, shall we?"

"Yes, let's go," Lily smiled again.

They began walking in the opposite direction, but still away from the pitch. Harry realized that his feet were unconsciously carrying him towards the lake, but he didn't mind. Most of the students were still inside, hopefully brooding over their homework or revising for their exams, so no one would bother them, when they eventually settled down at the lake. He didn't want to start this much needed conversation while they were still walking, but it would take them a few more minutes to reach their destination. So, almost on its own, Harry's right hand went to the pocket of his pants and pulled out a crooked cigarette, which had definitely seen better days, but just as he wanted to put it between his lips, he caught the highly disapproving look on his mother's face and put the cigarette back into his pocket.

"Sorry…" Harry mumbled, knowing exactly how much his mother despised his bad habit. He'd had to refrain from smoking in front of her ever since they had arrived in this dimension, but in some situations he simply forgot, like this one.

Suddenly, he felt her hand on his arm and they both stopped. She was staring up at him with worry shining in her green eyes – eyes that were so much like his own – as she asked, "Harry, what's wrong."

He tried to appease her with a light smile. "Don't worry… Nothing's wrong, per se. There's just something on my mind, has been there for quite some time actually, that I need to talk to you about. It's nothing bad, I swear. It's just something that's been confusing me."

The concern in her eyes didn't lessen, but she nodded reluctantly. "Let's go over there," she said to him, nodding over to a tree standing at the edge of the lake in the distance. Harry realized with a quiet pang in his heart that it was the same beech tree from the memory he had witnessed in Snape's Pensieve years ago. "No one else is outside and this is a quiet place to have a serious talk. I doubt anyone could overhear us before us noticing them."

"Thanks."

Harry was relieved and he squeezed her hand, before she took the lead and gently pulled him along to the tree. None of them talked for the short walk and Harry was glad for that. Even after they had sat down, Harry resting his back against the tree, which was in full bloom, and Lily sitting cross-legged next to him, Harry didn't say anything at first. He simply had no idea how to begin.

"The beginning is usually the best point to start," Lily suddenly said and Harry looked at her startled. Had his worries slipped past his lips, while he had been lost in thoughts, or could his mother read his mind? "You had that look on your face," she admitted grinning, upon seeing his questioning and surprised look.

"Oh," he replied, returning her grin for a second before he turned serious again. Thoughtfully, Harry lowered his eyes to the ground, his hand playing with the green blades of grass, as he said, "The beginning… It was the day I was relieved from the Hospital Wing. I had a vision about Severus having returned to Voldemort and I went to talk to Clara about it. During our conversation… she mentioned something… something I don't understand."

Lily regarded him calmly, as he hesitated for a moment, but eventually she prompted, "What is it you don't understand?"

"Clara told me that… you and Severus were friends."

"It's true," Lily told him. "We _were_ friends."

"I know." Now it was Lily's turn to look a bit startled and Harry guessed that she had thought, he just wanted to know if it was true. Thinking that he owed her a small explanation, Harry elaborated, "Severus had already told me a few days later. But he also said that I should talk to you about it."

"You want to know, how it was possible that Severus and I became friends."

"Yes," Harry answered, although it hadn't been a question. "Will you…will you tell me? I mean, you don't have to, but the Snape I know, he's a Slytherin through and through… A pureblood, who despises everyone with Muggle background. And…" _he called you a Mudblood._ Harry halted, not knowing if this was some information he should disclose to his mother. No, not yet, he decided. Later, maybe, depending on what she was going to tell him, if she was going to tell him something.

Much to his surprise, Lily smothered a small giggle. Harry raised his eyebrows, hoping that she might explain, and he didn't need to wait long. "Severus isn't your typical Slytherin," she said. "I don't know, _how_ he managed to keep it a secret all this time, but he isn't even pureblooded. His mother, Eileen Prince, was a witch, that's true, but his father, Tobias Snape, was a Muggle."

"Oh…" Harry was, to say it bluntly, stunned. He truly hadn't known that.

"We grew up in the same neighbourhood," Lily continued, without reacting to Harry. As a matter of fact, Harry thought that he saw her eye glaze over slightly, as she was getting lost in memories. "Until I was ten, Petunia and I simply knew him as that Snape-kid from Spinner's End. It was a more rundown part of our neighbourhood and it was common knowledge that the Snapes hadn't been exactly wealthy. He always ran around in mismatched clothes, some of them seeming to come from another time period, and his hair… I don't even want to start about his hair. He never talked to us, until one day, on the playground.

"Petunia and I, we were on the swing and I… I was showing off. I knew I could do things other children couldn't do and I didn't hide it. I just didn't know, why I could do those things, like jumping from the swing, when it was at its highest point, without being hurt, or making plucked flowers move in my hands. It was then that Severus decided to talk to me. He had been hiding out in the bushes, watching us, until he jumped out and told me that I was a witch. At first I thought that he had insulted me, but eventually, after we talked more later, I believed him." There was a small grin tugging at her lips. "What else could have been, if not magic?

"I asked him a lot of things about the Wizarding world, almost interrogated him, and he told me everything, about Hogwarts, owl-post, magic, but also about Azkaban and…"

"Dementors," Harry whispered, as a revelation hit him. He suddenly remembered that bizarre day in the kitchen of Privet Drive, so many years ago, before his fifth year. "Aunt Petunia said that she had heard _that boy_ telling you about them. I always thought that this boy had been James, but she meant Snape!"

"That's right," Lily told him. "Petunia eavesdropped on this conversation and only Merlin knows how many others. She's been jealous the whole time. She wanted to be one too, you know. A witch, I mean. She even wrote a letter to Dumbledore, asking him, if she couldn't go to Hogwarts, too. I saw his reply, it was very kind, but Petunia slowly but surely began to hate me and everything connected to the Wizarding world. When I left for Hogwarts for the first time, it was also the first time that she called me a freak. We've never talked much afterwards."

Harry saw a sad smile on her lips and he could sympathize with her. He had, after all, experienced his aunt's hatred for magic and the Wizarding world first hand and freak had been one of the names he had been called very often by his aunt and uncle. Reaching out with his right hand to cover hers, he tried to comfort her a bit.

"But you don't want to hear about my sister," Lily eventually said. "On the train, Severus and I met James and Sirius for the first time. Petunia's words had hurt me a lot and I had just entered the first compartment I could find. I ignored the two boys who were already there and they ignored me. I guess they didn't want to deal with a crying girl. But then Severus came. He tried to cheer me up and told me that he hoped that I'd be in Slytherin. James and Sirius, bullies as they were, immediately used this to insult Severus. We eventually left the compartment, but on this day, the hated nickname Snivellus was born.

"And then, at Hogwarts, we were sorted. I hadn't been sure what I had hoped for. I wanted to be there for Severus and he was so sure that he would be in Slytherin. So, when Minerva put the hat on my head, I started to chant 'Please put me in Slytherin, please put me in Slytherin', but the hat had other ideas. He never even considered my wish but simply told me he was sorry and called out Gryffindor for everyone to hear it. I had no other choice. I saw on Severus's face that it crushed his heart, even more so, when he was sorted into Slytherin. Lucius Malfoy was there to welcome him and at this moment I feared that Severus's fate had been sealed.

"And I was proven right. As the years passed, Severus and I got into more and more spats about his friends. I thought that they were evil, but he wouldn't hear anything of it. I tried to ignore it, I just didn't want to lose Sev's friendship, after all, he was the one who had been at my side, when I discovered that I was a witch, and I liked him, I really did. But I was losing him. And then came that fateful day at the end of our fifth year."

Harry's insides clenched painfully, as another revelation hit him. That memory, Snape's worst memory… All those years he had thought that Snape had hid this memory, because he had been embarrassed by this situation and didn't want anyone to know how much he had been humiliated in his schooldays. Never, never would Harry have expected that the reason might be a completely different one. Snape didn't want Harry to see this memory, because… "He called you a Mudblood on that day and lost your friendship."

"How did you know?" Lily's eyes were wide with astonishment. At that moment, Harry realized that he would have to tell his mother about the memory he had seen.

"Do you remember the Occlumency lessons Snape gave me in my fifth year that I told you about?" Lily nodded. "Well… I also told you that those lessons ended rather abruptly because I saw something I shouldn't have seen. Snape always put the memories he didn't want me to see into a Pensieve, but one day he was called away during a lesson and I had had a really bad day and felt extremely reckless. I saw the Pensieve and without even thinking long about it, I plunged inside. It was this memory that I saw, of the exams, how James and Sirius bullied Snape afterwards, how you tried to stop them and then, how he called you a Mudblood. Before I could see more, Snape discovered me, naturally, and threw me out of his office. But this memory, it changed a bit how I regarded not just Snape, but also the Marauders. It's just that I always thought that it was one of Snape's worst memories, because the Marauders humiliated him, but now I know better. He lost you that day. He… he loved you, didn't he?"

"Yes, I believed he did," Lily answered him softly.

"Did you love him?" Harry couldn't stop this question from leaving his mouth, but he regretted it at the same time as it did. However, his mother simply smiled at him.

"It wasn't love, yet, but I cared for him a lot. If he had changed earlier, and if James hadn't been there or if James had never gotten his head deflated, I think I would have been able to reciprocate his feelings. But he hadn't changed earlier and James was there and he had grown up, so…" she shrugged. "But even though the friendship between Sev and me had been lost, I kept watching him, and it hurt. Sometimes I thought that it was my fault that he seemed to get deeper and deeper into the whole mess with the Death Eaters and the Dark Arts and I often thought that I might have been able to save him, if I had continued to be his friend.

"So I was glad, when I saw that he was getting close to Clara. I knew her and she was a nice girl, even back then. She was good for him. But apparently not good enough to keep him from becoming a Death Eater, but she hadn't known and I think he had already been in too deep to get out again. Still, he was happy with her and I was happy for him. He deserved this. However, Severus and I, even though we were acting civil towards each other, when we were in public, we never tried to revive our friendship."

Harry heard how his mother's voice thickened and saw the tears in her eyes. Putting his arm around her, he pulled her close, so that her face rested against his chest. She returned the embrace, clinging to him as silent sobs shook her body. Harry wanted to comfort her, but didn't know how. He had never been really good at this. But seeing his mother like this, he needed to say something, so the first words that entered his mind left his mouth. "Maybe… maybe you should talk to him. Start new. He has changed now, he's on our side and has turned his back towards the Dark Arts and Voldemort. And I think that he misses you and your friendship."

"Oh Harry," Lily sighed. "You know, you're the best son a woman could hope for. But you're right, I should talk to him, and I will. Thanks…"

"What for?" Harry asked confused, as he gently pulled away from her.

Lily just smiled and hugged him, not clinging to him like she had before, but actually hugging him. Harry's heart soared, just like it did every time, when she put her arms around him, showing her love. "Because I needed to talk about this. This had been on my chest for just too long. I couldn't even talk to your father about it. But Harry, please… Whenever there's something that's bothering your, confusing you or if there's just something you want to know about us and our past, never be too scared to talk to us about it. I know you never had the chance to talk to your parents in your time, but we're your parents, too, and maybe we can help you just as much."

"Thanks, mum…" Harry simply mumbled and relished in her embrace a moment longer, until there was suddenly a rustling noise behind them. Startled out of his peace, Harry reacted on instincts alone and jumped up, wand ready in his hand. But he couldn't see anything, except for a bird that was flying away from the tree. Behind him, Lily laughed, as she got up too and put a hand on his shoulder.

"You're much too tense, Harry," she grinned. "You need to relax once in a while. And I know exactly how. Why don't you tell me about your Quidditch practice? I'm sure that James would be angry with me, if I couldn't tell him about it."

Harry laughed, pushing the nagging thought that he had missed something away, and regaled Lily with an amusing tale about the latest Quidditch practice. They stayed outside until the sun began to set and then they returned inside, for a much deserved dinner.

* * *

A few days later, Harry was sitting at his desk late at night, correcting the pop quiz he had the seventh years write today. It was long past midnight, when Harry finally finished the last one and went to bed. Sleep came to him quickly, but it wasn't peaceful. Normal dreams quickly gave way to a dark room Harry didn't know.

_"M-my L-lord…"_ _the rat-like person in front of him stuttered, shaking. "I've… I've got news…"_

_"Speak, Wormtail, I don't have all night," he hissed._

_"M-my Lord… I-I have reason t-to b-believe that…that…"_

_"What Wormtail?"_

_"P-professor Potter a-and his f-friends are from the future…"_

_That caught his attention. "Elaborate, Wormtail."_

_The man in front of him still trembled, but he appeared to be relieved that his Lord was listening. "A-a few days ago, I-I listened to a conversation b-between Lily Potter and Professor Potter. Lily said to him that… that she and James w-were his p-parents and h-he called her m-mum."_

_A victorious smirk appeared on his face after a short moment of contemplation. "This explains a lot… But you disappoint me, Wormtail. You should have told me sooner. For this, you'll need to be punished…"_

However, how Wormtail was punished, Harry didn't see anymore, as he was suddenly sitting up straight in his bed, drenched in sweat, his face filled with horror at the revelation.

"No…"


	34. Sanctuary

**A/N: Wow, I must say, I'm really proud of myself… Just a bit over a month since the last update, but I don't think I can keep up with this. University has started in earnest and soon I'll have to work really hard. But I'll still do my best, especially seeing as the story's slowly coming to an end. There are not many chapters left, but I can't say yet, how many, because I wanted to have something in this chapter, which I'll have to do in the next, because it didn't fit anymore in this one.**

**However, I just wanted to say a quick thank you for all the nice reviews! You guys really rock!**

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Chapter 34: Sanctuary

Harry's chest constricted painfully, as his breath came in short gasps. He felt light-headed and he knew that he would start to hyperventilate, if he didn't start breathing deeply soon. A panic that he hadn't felt in a very long time had set in after this dream, upon the realization that Voldemort knew. All those months they had been able to keep this secret and now it was out in the open.

Dark dots appeared in front of his eyes, a clear sign for the lack of air, and Harry closed his eyes. Trying to get the panic back under control, Harry tried to clear his mind of all thoughts concerning what he had just seen and heard, and took deep and regular breaths. His lungs were thankful and the light-headedness faded slowly but surely. However, first when Harry was sure that he had his panic attack under control, he opened his eyes again.

It was dark in his room, but as soon as he willed his wand into his hand through the holster he was wearing along his lower arm (even at night), the room was lit up by a non-verbal 'Lumos'. Without letting go of his wand, Harry grabbed his jeans and quickly slipped them on and then pulled a T-shirt over his head, while he was already on his way to the door. He pulled it open and with another wave of his wand, the flames in the fireplace in the room roared to life again, penetrating the darkness of the common room.

Shadows played on the walls, but Harry didn't pay them any heed, as he was already on his way to one of the other doors. "Ron!" he called, pounding at his friend's door. "Wake up!" Without waiting another second for his friend to react, Harry pushed the handle down and rushed through the door. Ron was sitting up in his bed, his hair sticking up wildly and looking around confused.

When his eyes landed on Harry, the look on his face turned from confused to worried. "Harry, mate, what's up?"

"Get dressed and come to the common room. We have to talk to Dumbledore."

He didn't say another word, leaving his concerned friend behind, who was already grabbing his clothes from a nearby chair, as he hurried through the door. However, just as he wanted to knock at the door to Hermione's room, it was already pulled open from the inside. Harry shouldn't have been surprised to see Draco in front of him instead of Hermione.

"Just what the fucking hell is going on here?" he demanded. Hermione was standing behind Draco, quickly tying the belt of the dressing gown around her waist.

She looked at him with worrying brown eyes. "Harry?"

"Voldemort knows," Harry simply said, as he also noticed Ron coming up behind him. "We need to talk to Dumbledore and decide what we should do now."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, trying and failing to stifle a yawn. "He knows? What does he know?"

Hermione's eyes had widened in shock and fear, while Draco's eyes narrowed and his whole body tensed. "How… how did he find out?" Hermione asked, her voice shaking.

Harry lowered his eyes in shame, as he thought back to his own irresponsibility. How could he have ever talked so openly outside, when everyone could have been listening? "Wormtail…" he mumbled, his shoulders sagging in guilt. "Wormtail eavesdropped on a conversation between me and my mum. We have been… careless."

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed, when he was finally awake enough to understand just what exactly was going on.

"My thoughts exactly, Weasley," Draco muttered, and then, directed at Harry, asked, "Vision?"

Harry nodded silently, his lips pressed tightly together. His fingers were itching. He needed to do something, anything. Just standing around here and explaining to his friends what was going on didn't help them. "Listen," it suddenly burst out of him. His head was beginning to pound and he clenched and unclenched his fists. Voldemort knew and they needed to decide on an action. Now. "We need to get to Dumbledore. He has to know. So, either you're coming with me or you're staying here."

"Don't get your knickers in a twist," Draco snapped at him. "We know this situation is serious, so no need to yell at us. Let's everybody just calm down... Shall we? Hermione and I, we will get dressed and you Potter should put on some shoes, unless you want to walk the halls in bare feet. I think this would really go down well should we meet some of our students."

"It's ten past two in the morning!"

Draco only raised his eyebrows at Harry's outburst, as if asking him, if that had stopped him as a student. He didn't react otherwise, instead Draco just turned around, wrapped his arm around Hermione's shoulder and was just about to close the door, when he said, "We'll be ready in a moment. Don't leave without us."

The door fell shut, leaving Ron and Harry standing alone in the common room. Harry's palms began to sting, as his nails dug deep into the skin and once again had to take steadying breaths to keep the panic from reappearing. When he felt Ron's hand on his shoulder, he looked up at him.

"Your shoes," Ron simply said and held a pair of black sneakers in front of him. "Draco's right, Harry. You need to calm down. I admit that it's terrible that he knows, but the world doesn't end just because of it. And we can't change it anymore. Let's talk to Dumbledore before we make any rash decisions."

Harry nodded, as he took the shoes and put them on. Ron was right, no matter how hard it was to accept it. It had happened, he couldn't change it anymore, he couldn't correct this mistake. The only thing he could do now was keep the damage as minimal as possible and to do that he needed to get a grip of himself. He wasn't fifteen years old any longer, ready to rush headlong into danger. He needed to think before he acted. "Thanks…"

"Anytime, mate."

Ron's grin turned into a serious expression, when Draco and Hermione came into the room, both of them now fully dressed and Hermione had her mob of hair pulled back into a messy bun. They wore the same serious expressions on their faces and Harry took a deep breath. "I'm sorry…"

"Oh Harry!" The look on Hermione's face softened, as she stepped up to him and hugged him tightly. "It's alright. We understand. It's not your fault, Harry… It could have happened to any of us. Especially considering…" Suddenly, Hermione broke off in the middle of the sentence and let go of him.

"Considering, what?" Ron asked.

She shook her head. "Nothing… not now… later… Now we need to go to Dumbledore."

"But we shouldn't go to him before giving him a warning that we're coming," Draco interjected. "Cuddy!" With a quiet popping sound, a young house-elf suddenly appeared in their common room. "Go to Dumbledore and tell him that we're on the way. It's very important."

"Yes, sir!"

The house-elf disappeared again and Hermione gave Draco a dirty look. He just shrugged and smirked. "What? I don't think the old man would appreciate it, if we'd just appear in his office in the middle of the night without telling him that we're coming."

Harry watched the exchange and felt a slight tug at his lips, which, however, quickly disappeared again. "We should hurry."

"Of course, mate." Ron clapped him on the shoulder and gave him an encouraging smile. Harry returned the smile briefly, before he resolutely walked through the portrait hole. His friends followed him without hesitation.

Contrary to Draco's earlier comment, they didn't meet anyone on the way to the Headmaster's office, not even Filch or his cat Mrs. Norris. As soon as they reached the gargoyle that was guarding the entrance, Harry wanted to announce the password, but the gargoyle jumped aside before he could even open his mouth. Dumbledore was expecting them.

The four time travellers walked up the stairs and Harry knocked shortly on the wooden door to the office before entering. Just as Harry had expected, Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk. He wore a purple dressing gown over his nightgown and still wore the white nightcap on his head. His blue eyes were regarding them over his half-moon spectacles, while his hands were folded on the desk.

"Good morning," he greeted them, his voice serious. "Cuddy said that this meeting was important."

"Yes," Harry told him gravely. "I had a vision. Voldemort knows that we're from the future."

"Aah…" Dumbledore closed his eyes briefly and Harry noticed how the old wizard's whole body seemed to tense for a split second, before he opened his eyes again. "Are you completely sure that this is what you saw?"

Forcing his voice to sound calm and professional, hoping that it wouldn't betray any of the panic he was feeling, Harry answered, "Without any doubt. I watched a conversation between him and Wormtail. In this vision, it was revealed that Wormtail had eavesdropped on a conversation between me and my mother and reported this to Voldemort. Voldemort believed him."

Harry felt the tension in his body grow even more, as he waited for Dumbledore to say something about it. The old wizard breathed deeply, almost sighing, and closed his eyes again. Harry had to fight the urge to walk up do him and demand that they do something right now, but Ron's calming hand on his shoulder stopped him. It had really been a long time, since Harry had felt so agitated, and he really wasn't coping well.

Finally, after seemingly endless long minutes, Dumbledore opened his eyes again. The expression on his face was a grim but determined one. "This situation is extremely serious and I have to admit that I don't know what Voldemort might do with this information. However, one thing is sure. Harry, Ronald, your families need to be informed, but I'm sure, you're already aware of that. I think it would be best, if you brought them to Hogwarts, until we have strengthened the wards around their homes. As you know, the fireplace in my office is connected to their homes. You may go now. I'll have some rooms prepared for them."

"Thank you," Harry mumbled, feeling some relief. At least his and Ron's families would be safe at Hogwarts. Suddenly his eyes widened. "But Albus, surely Ron's and my families aren't the only ones in danger. If Voldemort knows that Ron and I are from the future, he will also come to the conclusion that Hermione and Draco are too."

Ron nodded, as he said, "Harry's right, sir. Even though Hermione's parents are Muggles, I don't doubt that he will be able to find them. And as for Malfoy… he might be using a different name, but even Snape recognized him, when he knew of the time travel."

"Of course," Dumbledore mumbled, inclining his head towards the couple. "I apologize for my oversight. Draco, I don't know about your mother, but I do know that Lucius is a Death Eater. However, I'm not above giving willing people a second chance, so if you want to offer them and your younger self sanctuary here at Hogwarts, I will be willing to give Lucius this chance."

Draco kept his face neutral, but it was evident in his voice and posture how much this really affected him. He was even tenser than Harry, if that was possible, and his stormy grey eyes betrayed the inner turmoil. "I really don't care about my _father_," he spat the last word. "The Dark Lord may kill the bastard, if he wishes to."

"And what about your mother? Is Narcissa worth saving in your eyes?"

Hermione took Draco's hand and entwined her fingers with his, as Dumbledore asked this question. Harry could clearly see Draco's shoulders tremble underneath the clothes. He didn't know much about Narcissa, only that she had died towards the end of their sixth year. He had never found out the true circumstances of her death, only that she had apparently been murdered. Ashamed, Harry realized that he had never even thought about what Draco, whom he now started to consider as one of his friends, might have felt back then.

"If there's a way…?" Blond bangs fell into Draco's eyes, as he lowered his head at the end of this question, almost all pretence gone. At that moment, when Draco's defensive front wavered, Harry got a good look at the young man that was hidden most of the time under the swagger and bravado, at his vulnerability and most of all his ability to care for other people. This had to be the Draco that Hermione had gotten to know and fallen in love with, Harry thought with an inner smile. And at that moment he wondered, how he had ever worried about Draco being the right one for his friend.

Instead of answering Draco's question, Dumbledore regarded him calmly for a moment, and then picked up a Knut that was lying on his desk, probably for paying the morning edition of the _Prophet_. The Headmaster waved his wand and the Knut glowed for a short moment. "This Portkey will bring you to Wiltshire, near the Manor. As Malfoy heir, you shouldn't have any problems getting inside. When you have found your mother and your younger self, simply let them touch the Portkey at the same time as you do. The password that will bring you back to Hogwarts is _Sanctuary_. You should go now, I have this feeling that time is of the essence."

"Thank you, Headmaster," Draco said, pulling himself up to his full height; all traces of his former weakness were gone. He took the Knut and just a split second later, he had disappeared.

"Draco!" Hermione cried, but it was too late. Her hand was grasping air. Her eyes shone with worry and fear for Draco, and some tears ran down her cheeks. Fortunately, Ron was immediately by her side and pulled her into his arms.

"Hush… Don't worry, the insufferable git will be alright. Nothing will happen."

Harry really hated to break up the moment, especially seeing as Hermione obviously needed the comfort, but he and Ron needed to go now, too. They shouldn't forget that their families were also in danger. "Ron…" he said quietly.

"Okay…" his friend replied, as he gently pulled away from Hermione. He wiped the tears from her face with the sleeves of his jumper and offered her a mischievous grin. "Don't forget, 'Mione… It's Malfoy. Before you know, he'll be back to annoy us all."

"He's right," Harry added, also allowing a small grin on his face. "Besides, he's got you waiting for him. And we promise that we'll be back in a few minutes, too. Why don't you use this time and talk to Albus about what we should do about your parents. We can't just kidnap them and bring them to Hogwarts; after all, they don't know about magic, yet."

Hermione sniffed once, as a resolved face appeared on her face. "You're right, both of you. I'm just being stupid." She returned their grins. "And now, off you go. I don't want to see you come back without your families."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am!" Ron saluted playfully. After both of them had exchanged one more look with both Hermione and Dumbledore, Harry and Ron each grabbed a handful of Floo powder. Ron went first through the fire, before Harry stepped into the fireplace and announced loudly and clearly, "Godric's Lane 7."

Travelling by Floo was something Harry liked even less than Apparating, but with the numerous wards already surrounding his parents' house, it would be either this, broom or Portkey. The broom would always be Harry's favourite, but if he had to choose between Floo and Portkey, he would always choose the first method. Ever since the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament, Harry distrusted Portkeys on principle

However, two major flaws of Flooing were of course Harry's less than graceful landings and the soot that would always cover him from head to toe. Usually, Harry would use a cleaning charm to get rid off it, but not tonight. This time, when Harry stumbled out of the fireplace into the dark living room, his mind was set on getting his parents to Hogwarts, ignoring everything else.

"Mum? Dad?" h e croaked, as he scrambled to his feet again. Once he was standing more or less upright again, he was already moving through the dark living room. He almost couldn't see a thing, so it wasn't a big surprise that he stubbed his toe at the coffee table. Fortunately, since he was wearing his sneakers, it didn't hurt nearly as much as it would have, had he not been wearing any shoes, but still he couldn't keep the curse from escaping his mouth, as he stumbled on towards the door.

The door to the corridor was standing open and just as he wanted to leave the living room, he was nearly blinded by a harsh light, as the point of a wand was shoved at his face. He couldn't see more than a shadow behind the glaring light.

"Whoa!" Harry raised his hand to shield his eyes, but this reaction only caused the wand to come closer to his face. Hoping that he identified the shadow correctly, Harry quickly said, "Dad! It's me!"

It took two more seconds until the wand was lowered, not completely, but enough so that Harry could see that he had been right. It was his father in front of him. However, the wand was still raised high enough to be used in an attack. "What is the main point of the Prophecy?" James asked warily.

Harry sighed in relief. This question was easy to answer, at least for him. "And neither can live while the other survives."

Finally the wand was lowered so that its tip pointed to the ground and James ran a hand through his messy hair. "Bloody hell, Harry," he muttered. "What are you doing here at half past two in the morning? I was just in the kitchen, getting some water, when I heard some noise coming from the living room. I had thought that Voldemort or some Death Eaters had finally decided to come to finish—"

James stopped in the middle of the sentence, when he saw the grimace on Harry's face. "That's why I'm here," Harry explained quickly. "I had a vision not even half an hour ago. Voldemort knows that you're my parents and that we're from the future. It might only be a matter of time, before he really comes to Godric's Hollow. And that's why you have to get out of here…"

Behind his father, Harry saw his mother slowly coming down the stairs, rubbing her eyes sleepily. "James? What's going on?"

"Grab some clothes," Harry continued simply, "for both of you and the child and some other things you might need. But don't take much and hurry. I don't know how much time we'll have."

"Harry?" By now, Lily had reached the bottom of the stairs and was looking at them with a confused and scared look in her eyes. "What are you doing here? It's the middle of the night. Has something happened?"

"We're in danger," James simply said, giving Harry a probing look. Harry thought he could see the dislike about running away instead of fighting in his father's eyes, but eventually reason won the fight and James nodded. "Lily, get Harry and take some clothes. We're going to Hogwarts."

Releasing a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding the whole time, Harry said, "Go with her. I'll keep watch. Don't worry, I'll know when he comes."

James gaze flickered to Harry's scar for a second, before he went for the stairs, ushering Lily upstairs. "We'll be back down in a moment."

"Hurry," Harry told him again, letting his wand slip into his right hand. James just nodded again and followed his wife to the upper floor. Soft cries could be heard and Harry could imagine that his younger self wouldn't be happy about being woken up at this time of the night. Straining his ears, Harry tried to listen to every unusual sound and paid extra attention to even the slightest pain from his scar.

But nothing happened, and finally, after an excruciating wait, James and Lily, with little Harry settled on her hips, hurried down the stairs. Both of them were carrying a backpack and Harry took the extra bag James was carrying over his shoulder for the boy.

"How are we getting to Hogwarts?" Lily asked.

"Floo. I guess that Albus will seal the entrance to Hogwarts through your fireplace the moment we're back."

"Alright…" Resolutely, James went to the fireplace and opened the jar on the mantle. "Lily, you and Harry go first."

Knowing better than to protest, Lily took a handful of Floo powder and stepped into the fireplace. After having announced her destination loudly and clearly, she disappeared in the green flames.

"Now you," Harry insisted, as he saw that James was about to offer to him to go first. There was no way that he was leaving his father behind, not when it was so obvious that James would rather fight than flee.

The two young men stared at each other long and hard, but Harry didn't give in, and in the end, James just shook his hand, took a handful of the powder and disappeared through the flames. However, before Harry followed him, he lit his wand briefly and gazed around the living room, wondering if he would ever see this place again or if it would be lying in shambles the next time he came here.

The light on the tip of his wand vanished, as Harry took some Floo powder and stepped into the fireplace. "Hogwarts," he said and just a moment later, he found himself whirring past other fireplaces. Soon enough, he once again stumbled out of a fireplace, directly in the arms of his father, who kept him upright. "Thanks," he muttered, as he stepped away and looked around.

Much to his surprise, Draco was sitting on a couch that hadn't been there before, with Hermione hovering nervously next to him. But this wasn't what had caught Harry's gaze, because next to Draco on the couch, he saw a much younger and gentler looking Narcissa Malfoy, who was holding a blond toddler in her arms. Draco was talking to her in soft tones, but she just kept shaking her head, causing Draco to run his hand through his own blond hair.

Not wanting to disturb them, Harry continued to look around, and a frown appeared on his face, when he noticed that Ron and the Weasleys hadn't returned yet. His gaze wandered to the fireplace and for a moment he contemplated, whether he should go to the Burrow himself to check on them. However, he also shouldn't forget that Arthur and Molly would have to round up four children and two of those four children were the twins.

"Don't worry, Harry," Dumbledore, who had suddenly appeared next to him, said. "They'll be here soon, I'm sure of it."

"I hope you're right," Harry could only mumble, when he felt the soft touch of his mother's hand on his shoulder. James had taken over little Harry duty and it seemed the she wanted to take care of him. He covered her hand with his own and turned to give her a light smile.

Lily returned the smile and entwined his fingers with hers. Taking a step back and tugging at his hand, she said gently, "Come on, Harry. Let's sit down. You'll see, Ron and the Weasleys will be back in a few minutes."

Harry nodded, even though sitting down and doing nothing was the last thing he wanted to do at that very moment. His fingers were itching and yet, he let himself be pulled along to another couch that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Against every urge that told him to go to the Burrow to see what took Ron so long, Harry sat down between his parents, but he couldn't sit still.

For seemingly hours he fidgeted, clenched and unclenched his fists, and looked around the room, from the fireplace, to Dumbledore, who was sitting apparently serenely behind his desk, to the other couch to Draco, Hermione and Narcissa Malfoy, back to the fireplace. His mother was soothingly rubbing his back, but it didn't help Harry to relax at all. Time was passing, too much time in his opinion, and still no sign of Ron. None of them was talking, all of them lost in their own thoughts.

Finally, Harry was just about to jump up and go to the Burrow, the green flames flared up and Molly Weasley stepped out of the fireplace, clutching a red haired baby tightly to her chest over her rounded stomach. Harry immediately left the couch, and also Lily, James and Dumbledore rose, to welcome them. Next came Percy, then Fred and George, followed by Arthur and then at last came Ron. The Weasleys, and especially the kids, appeared to be incredibly tired, being unusually quiet, but at least they were unharmed. Harry heaved a sigh of relief, when all of them were through, and quickly walked up to Ron, pulling him into a brotherly hug. "Don't let us ever wait so long again, mate!" he muttered.

"Sorry," Ron replied with a strained grin, as Harry let go. "Took a bit longer than expected to get the kids ready. But I see the rest is already here." The smile immediately turned into a grimace, when his eyes fell on Narcissa Malfoy.

Harry saw that Dumbledore had gone to the fireplace immediately after Ron had come through, waving his wand in a complicated pattern. The fireplace glowed golden for a short moment, before Dumbledore stopped and turned to look at them. "Welcome to Hogwarts," he told them. "I'm not sure, if our guests have gotten a full explanation as to why they had to come here, except for that they are in danger in their own homes. But let me assure you that you will be safe here at Hogwarts."

A rustle to his right turned Harry's eyes momentarily away from Dumbledore, and he noticed that Narcissa Malfoy had risen from her chair, still holding tightly onto a sleeping young Draco. Her face was pale, paler than usual Harry guessed, but her lips were set into a determined line. "Headmaster," she said, her voice more composed than she looked, "I don't understand at all. This young man arrived at my home, claiming that he is my son from the future and that I'm in danger. I think you understand, why this might be hard to believe."

"Of course, dear Narcissa," Dumbledore replied gently. "But believe me, this young man is indeed your son. He and his three friends were sent into the past by Voldemort. They've been here since the beginning of last August, posing as teachers at this school. But now their identity has become known to Voldemort and this means that you and your children are all in danger."

"Impossible," Narcissa mumbled, shaking her head again, but her eyes had lost some of the distrust Harry had been able to see earlier. She looked over her shoulder to Draco, who was standing in front of the couch with an unreadable look on her face, before she turned around. "And yet, I can't deny the resemblance to my husband."

"I'm Draco Eirian Malfoy, your son," Draco simply said. "I can't prove it, so I can only hope that you will trust the Headmaster. But even if you don't believe me, believe at least that you and your child are in danger, because the Dark Lord has found out that we're from the future and he will realize that I'm Draco Malfoy, sooner or later. You already died once because of me, I don't wish for you to die again."

Harry almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. Never before had he heard Draco talk like this, not even after he had killed his own father. He felt compassion for the young man, who hid so much of his past and of himself, and really hoped that Narcissa would realize that Draco was truly her son. Draco deserved this; he and Hermione were the only ones who didn't have contact to their parents in this time… And this reminded Harry of another important topic of this night.

"Albus," he began quietly, not wanting to disturb the silence that had followed Draco's declaration. But at the same time he thought that Draco might feel uncomfortable with all the attention directed at him, so he thought he was doing him a favour by changing the topic. "Have you and Hermione already talked about what to do about her parents?"

"We have." It was Hermione, who answered him, not Dumbledore. She had left Draco's side, giving him some privacy, and was now coming up to them. "It just took a few minutes to decide that I'm going to talk to them later today and tell them about the magical world. Their daughter is magical, so this is a plausible explanation, also for their being in danger, seeing as Voldemort wants to rid the world off muggleborns."

"You're not going alone!" Ron suddenly exclaimed, flanking her on the right side, so that she was standing directly between Harry and Ron. "I'm coming with you."

"And so am I," Harry agreed with a light grin.

"I'll be with you, too, of course." Much to his surprise, Draco, too, had joined them. He was obviously incredibly exhausted, both physically and emotionally. And still, despite the situation with Narcissa, he was ready to stand by Hermione's side, when she would face her parents. Harry's opinion of Draco had risen to incredibly heights alone in this night.

Suddenly, Dumbledore clapped his hands, getting their attention. "This has been a most strenuous night for all of us, and although I'm sure that especially our guests still have many questions, I'd suggest that we meet again later today, after we've had a few hours rest. I've had some rooms prepared for you—" as he said this, one house-elf appeared in his office, "—and I've asked Cuddy to show you to your rooms. Come morning, you may either have breakfast in your own rooms or you are welcome to the Great Hall. Until then, I bid you a few good and restful hours."

Muttered 'thank you's' could be heard throughout the office and slowly, one after another, they left the office. They didn't exchange any words and the time travellers parted from their families at one of the many staircases. The Potters and Weasleys agreed that they would meet for breakfast in the time travellers' room, but neither Draco nor Narcissa mentioned anything about breakfast. Harry couldn't help but feel that Narcissa wouldn't leave her room very often and that it would be a few hard days for Draco until his mother finally believed him and Dumbledore.

But first they had to tackle another obstacle – how to tell Hermione's parents about the magical world.


	35. Hermione times two

**A/N: Surprise! Just a bit over a month has passed since the last chapter, but when my muse suddenly kissed me again yesterday, I could only stop, when I had to sleep, and now it is already finished! Actually, I wanted to put the Quidditch match into this chapter, but it would have gotten too long (and it would have also taken too long to finish this chapter), so I stopped where I stopped. But the match will definitely be in the next one!**

**And now, have fun!**

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Chapter 35: Hermione times two

„Are you sure you want to do this?"

Hermione nodded in answer to Harry's worried question, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her hands were clenched in tight balls at her sides, until Harry saw Draco take one of those hands into his own and gently prying it open, so that his fingers could entwine with hers. A small smile stole over Harry's face upon this gesture, especially as Hermione seemed to relax a bit.

They were standing at the end of a road in the middle a small suburb of London. According to Hermione, this was the place where she and her parents had lived until she turned five. There was a line of houses on one side of the street and a park with a playground on the other side. On this fine day in May there were plenty of children with their parents on the playground, but Harry couldn't find the telltale sign of bushy hair among the children.

His stomach twisted, when he realized that none of those happy people out here knew that they were in danger at this very moment. For them it was just another sunny Saturday afternoon, a day to spend with their families. They were unaware of the war that was raging outside their own world, but could still do them so much harm. They were absolutely helpless. Should Voldemort and his Death Eaters decide to come to this neighbourhood, they wouldn't stand a chance.

As soon as they were back at Hogwarts, Dumbledore needed to dispatch one or two Order members so that they could keep an eye on this neighbourhood. It would be too dangerous to leave them unprotected, even if they somehow managed to convince Hermione's parents to go into hiding with their daughter. Sooner or later Voldemort would realize where they lived and then he would come.

"So, which house is yours?" Ron's voice tore Harry out of his thoughts.

Hermione looked down the street, until she pointed at a relatively small one-storey house. It was surrounded by a brown wooden fence, and the front yard was decorated with colourful flowers on the fresh green grass. Somehow, this whole neighbourhood reminded Harry a bit of Privet Drive, but just a bit. Some things were definitely different – somehow, this neighbourhood was alive, with children playing outside, gardens that were filled with flowers, but also some weeds, and not to forget the different toys lying on the grass. It was really comfortable and not as sterile as Privet Drive.

"It's number eleven," Hermione informed them, her throat thick. Harry put a hand on the small of her back and gave her a reassuring smile. It would be alright, he was telling her. And she wasn't alone. Hermione returned his smile, before she swallowed once and said, "I'm ready. Let's go."

The three young men nodded at each other over Hermione's head and together they made their way over to the house Hermione had pointed out. There was a car in the driveway, much to their relief, which meant that at least one of the Grangers appeared to be home. It would just be too complicated to have to wait for them, especially as Harry had this bad feeling that they would need to hurry.

With her head held high, even though Harry could see her tremble lightly, Hermione walked up to the front door and didn't even wait until they had joined her to ring the bell. Harry almost held his breath, as two seconds passed, five seconds passed, ten seconds passed. Finally, after seemingly endless thirty-three seconds, they could see a shadow through the milky glass of the door. The noise of someone turning a key in a lock could be heard and then the door was opened.

A brown haired man, who looked to be about thirty, looked at them curiously. Pushing up the silver-framed glasses on his nose, he asked, "Can I help you?"

Harry noticed how Hermione froze next to them, but before he could say something to answer the man's, Hermione's father's, question, Draco cleared his throat. "Dr. Jason Granger, I presume?" When Hermione's father nodded his head, Draco smiled at him politely. "My name is Eirian Draconis and these are my colleagues, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Jean Evans. We're professors and representatives of a very prestigious boarding school in Scotland and would like to talk to you about your daughter."

"My-my daughter?" the man sputtered, but before he could say more, another voice came nearer, only to reveal a woman about the man's age, with slightly bushy brown hair and kind brown eyes.

"Jason, who's this at the door?"

Mrs. Granger smiled brightly at the four guests standing in front of her door, while she was waiting for her husband to answer.

"They claim that they're from some kind of boarding school and want to talk to us about Hermione." He eyed the four of them suspiciously.

At that moment Harry was glad that they had taken enough care to look like Muggles, he, Ron and Draco wearing Muggle suits and Hermione a dark blue skirt and a white blouse. He didn't even want to imagine how Dr. Granger would react, if they had appeared in their robes or really mismatched Muggle clothes.

"I know that this might seem a bit strange to you," Draco continued, smoothly and professionally. "Especially seeing as your daughter is not even two years old yet, but if you give us a chance to explain the situation, you might just believe us."

Mrs. Granger put a calming hand on her husband's arm. He was still glaring at them, the frame of his glasses glinting nearly dangerously in the sunlight, but eventually sighed quietly, mumbling a disapproving "Heather" under his breath, and took a step backwards. However, the unfriendly look on his face didn't disappear, as his wife invited them in and led them to their comfortable looking living room.

On the floor in front of one of the high bookshelves, they immediately spotted a toddler with a mop of extremely bushy hair on her head. The little girl looked up from the storybook she had been 'reading', when she heard her parents' voices. With a squeal of delight, she grabbed the book and ran over to her mother, who immediately picked her up. "Mummy!" she squeaked, pointing at one of the many pictures in the book, which ironically enough was one of a witch on a broomstick. "Look!"

However, her attention was quickly diverted from the book, as her eyes finally fell on the four strangers. Harry couldn't help but smile – now he finally knew how all four of them looked like as toddlers. He noticed similar smiles on Ron's and Draco's face, only Hermione appeared to be frozen, upon seeing her other self.

The little girl curiously tilted her head to one side, staring weirdly enough directly at her older counterpart, before her face split into a bright grin, letting small dimples appear in her round cheeks, and she reached with the hand in which she was holding the book towards Hermione. "For you!"

Hermione stared at the girl, her brown eyes wide, as she hesitantly reached for the book. But when her own hand touched the soft skin of the little girl's hand, a soft smile played on her lips, as she breathed, "Thank you." Now her eyes were filled with wonder, and Harry could imagine pretty well that he and Ron at least had similar looks on their faces, when they had met their baby-selves.

A rough clearing of a throat pulled them all back into the present. It was, of course, Mr. Granger, who was now regarding them with even more suspicions and impatience than before. His wife shot him a warning glare, before she asked them to make themselves comfortable. As soon as they were seated, Draco repeated the round of introductions for the sake of Hermione's mother.

"So," Mrs. Granger, who was having little Hermione sit on her lap, began, "my husband said that you're from a school. May I inquire as to what kind of school it is and why you think that this might be a good school for our daughter?"

This time, Harry decided to offer an explanation. He couldn't let Draco do all the talking. He didn't think it would make a good impression, if just one of them was speaking, while the other three remained silent. "The school's name is Hogwarts, and I'm pretty sure that you haven't heard of it anywhere. However, many people say that it's the best school of its kind in Europe, or maybe all around the world. As to why we think this school might be right for your daughter... well..."

He exchanged a quick glance with his friends, knowing that the hard part would begin now. Mr. and Mrs. Granger needed to know that their daughter was a witch, otherwise they would never believe the second part of what they were going to tell them.

Much to Harry's surprise, Hermione, still holding the storybook in her hands, looked at her parents imploringly, as she said, her voice clear and strong, despite her nervousness, "I know this might sound unbelievable, but I'm sure that you've noticed how... extraordinary your... daughter is."

"What do you mean?" Mr. Granger growled, sounding quite defensively. His wife's grip on his arm tightened, as her knuckles turned white.

"What I mean is that I'm sure that your daughter has done things no other almost two-years-old child should be able to do. Somehow getting out of her bed, despite the bars, or suddenly looking at a book, which had been lying on the highest shelf?"

Hermione had told them all before that she had already displayed the first signs of magic before she could even walk. According to Ron and Draco it wasn't even that unusual, as Wizarding children used their magical power instinctively at that age to get what they wanted. It usually started really small, like flying toys, or escaping their bed, but as the children grew older, this kind of accidental magic could grow a lot stronger. When they had told them this, Harry suddenly wasn't surprised anymore, how he could have ended up on that roof of his school, back when Dudley and his gang had chased after him.

Mrs. Granger's face had suddenly turned as pale as her knuckles, as she whispered, "How do you know this?"

Hermione smiled at them calmly, as she explained, "I know this, because your daughter is a witch, just as I am, or as Harry, Eirian and Ronald are wizards."

"Miss... Evans, was it?" Hermione nodded tersely, at her father's question. "I'm sorry, but did you just say that our daughter is a... witch? And that you are a witch, too, and that these young men are wizards?"

"Yes," Hermione replied politely, patiently. "Your daughter is, what we call, a Muggleborn witch, this means, a witch born to non-magical parents, just as you are."

Suddenly and quite unexpectedly, Mr. Granger rose from his armchair, now towering over Hermione. She tried to hold his glare with a steady gaze of her own, but Harry could clearly see how hard it was for her. "Get. Out," Mr. Granger hissed through clenched teeth. When they didn't react at first, he took another step forward, and his voice rose. "I said, get out!"

"Sir," Ron tried to intervene and got up, but hadn't expected that Hermione's father would turn violent. He grabbed Ron's arm, ignoring the other voices in the room and his little daughter's distraught cries, when suddenly the bookshelves on the wall began to tremble and several books fell to the floor. Then it suddenly appeared as if he and Ron were physically pushed apart, even though no one was touching them.

Harry noticed Ron's confused glance directed at him, Draco and Hermione, but he just shrugged. Neither Draco nor Hermione had their wands in their hands, nor had Harry used wandless magic. This only left one explanation, and all four of them seemed to come to the same conclusion at the same time, as their gazes whipped around to the small girl in her mother's arms. However, Mr. Granger still looked ready to explode, even though the look on his face displayed more confusion than anger at this very moment, so Harry decided to step in.

Raising his hands slightly to indicated that he meant no harm, as he explained, "Mr. Granger, sir, what you've just experienced was accidental magic. As you can see, your daughter was very upset and strong emotions, mostly strong negative emotions, set off those bursts of magic." He was staring at the other man calmly, his voice sounding serious and respectful.

"_That_ was magic?" Mr. Granger asked, looking at his still silently crying and hiccoughing daughter with remorse in his eyes. It was clearly evident that he hadn't wanted to make his daughter cry.

Harry nodded. "Yes, that was magic, uncontrolled magic. If you wish to see a more controlled kind of magic, we would be happy to show you, but we can also understand, if you're confused or even scared." A small mischievous smile appeared on his lips. "If you'd let us show you, we might also try to cheer up dear Hermione."

Mr. and Mrs. Granger exchanged a long look, but eventually both nodded. "Alright," Mrs. Granger asked, sounding a bit shaken by the previous experiences. "Show us."

Harry grinned, turning to his best friend. "Ron, would you do the honours?"

"Of course, mate," Ron grinned as well, already recovered from the small shock from the physical confrontation with Hermione's father. "Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger, what you will see now is completely harmless magic."

With those words, Ron began. He started with a simple levitation charm, letting some of little Hermione's stuffed animals, which were lying around on the living room's floor, fly around the now amazed girl. This was quickly followed by some easy transfiguration of a glass that was standing on the table into a squirrel and back, but the highlight of his little show was the silver Jack Russell terrier that ran around the room, barking wildly. At the end, the small child was laughing loudly and clapping her hands, and just a second later, her stuffed animals were again in the air, only this time by her own doing, much to her parents' astonishment.

"Incredible," Hermione's father could only mutter, as he slumped back down into the soft cushions of his armchair. Ron had his wand tugged away again, but the toys were still flying. Mr. and Mrs. Granger's eyes were fixed on their daughter, whose eyes were sparkling with joy. There were no more signs of her earlier tears, as she was laughing, while making her toys fly loops in the air.

"This is amazing," Mrs. Granger breathed, her eyes filled with awe, as she was watching her daughter. "So, magic is real?"

"Yes, it is..." Draco told them. "It's just hidden really well, in a world of its own. We wouldn't even be allowed to tell you, if your daughter weren't a witch, because of the Statute of Secrecy. Telling non-magical people about the Wizarding world without having a very good reason for doing this is prohibited."

"Usually," Harry continued, "you wouldn't even be told about the Wizarding world until your daughter is eleven years old and receives her formal invitation to Hogwarts—"

"Hogwarts is a school for magic?" Mrs. Granger interrupted him.

Nodding, Harry clarified, "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is about a thousand years old and has since its founding been a school for magic. The current Headmaster is Albus Dumbledore, a really powerful wizard. But if you want to know more about Hogwarts, you should talk to Jean. She's probably the only one of us who has read the book _Hogwarts A History_ from cover to cover at least about... a hundred times, maybe?" He grinned, winking at Hermione, who blushed a bit. "She can tell you everything you want to know about the school."

"I think we'll take you up on that offer." Harry was surprised to hear Mr. Granger say this, especially seeing as his voice seemed to have lost much of its suspicious tone, which had mostly been replaced with curiosity. "But why are you here now, if students are usually invited to the school once they're eleven years old?"

Harry took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "I won't beat around the bush. Because of your daughter's status as a Muggleborn witch, you are in danger. At the moment, the Wizarding world is at war with an extremely dangerous wizard, called Voldemort. He's opposed to having witches and wizards born to non-magical parents learn magic and wants to get rid of them all, if possible. Your daughter's name has appeared on the school's register of hopeful students a short time ago and somehow, as we've just found out, her name has slipped to Voldemort." Of course, the last sentence was a lie, but they had decided that this would be the most plausible explanation without revealing too much. "This has made her one of his targets."

Just as expected, Hermione's parents froze, shock and fear clearly written on their faces. Almost as if she could save her daughter all alone, Mrs. Granger clutched the child tightly to her chest, much to the girl's confusion, as suddenly her stuffed animals once again dropped to the ground. "Mummy? Wong?"

"Nothing's wrong, darling," Mrs. Granger whispered and kissed her daughter's hair. "But mummy and daddy have to talk to these nice people. Why don't you go to your room and play?"

The little girl looked at her mother with wide brown eyes, but she finally slipped from her mother's lap. However, instead of leaving the room, she walked up to Hermione and took her hand. "Come wif!" she said, and Harry had to suppress a small grin, because of two things. One, the not even two years old Hermione was already sounding as bossy as her adult counterpart, and second, that she wanted to play with the older Hermione. Harry wondered, if the little girl somehow recognized herself in this young woman.

Hermione glanced at them quickly, asking with her eyes if it would be alright, if she went with the girl. They didn't even need to think about it, as Draco answered quickly with a small amused smirk, "Go ahead. Play with her and maybe show her some more magic tricks." For one, it would only be fair if Hermione also spent some time with her younger self, and on the other hand, Harry, and he knew also the other two young men, would feel a lot better, if the little girl weren't alone at that moment. Not as long as this house was still virtually unprotected.

So, with a small smile, Hermione took the little girl's hand and let herself be pulled from the room. Eventually, when they were sure that the younger Hermione was out of earshot, Mr. Granger spoke again. "What kind of danger are you talking about?"

"Deadly danger. Voldemort has already killed many people, and he wouldn't even hesitate to torture and kill an innocent child. And his followers, the Death Eaters, are just like him, only less powerful, but just as ruthless." Harry once again saw them stiffen, when they heard his answer, but it was the truth. "But we can help you. There are several possibilities that could come into question. The first is, you come to Hogwarts with us. There are already three other families who've come to seek protection under the roof of our school."

"Non-magical families, like ours?" Mrs. Granger wanted to know.

Harry shook his head. "No, wizarding families. But they've, if I may put it that way, pissed Voldemort off and are on his hit list because of this."

"What are the other possibilities?"

Harry once again turned to Mr. Granger, as he replied to his question, "The second one is that we could hide you by a special charm, the Fidelius Charm. With this charm, your house will be hidden from view. Voldemort might walk directly past your window and he wouldn't know that you're there. And the last one would simply be that we put some protection wards around your house and neighbourhood, which would alert us, if another wizard comes to this place. Additionally, should you decide to remain here, Headmaster Dumbledore would provide you with a magical item called a Portkey, which would bring you to Hogwarts, when you activate it."

Mr. and Mrs. Granger remained silent for a long moment after Harry had explained the three different options to them, both of them deep in thoughts. None of the three wizards said something. They could easily tell that this, everything, came as a huge shock. After all, it didn't happen every day that such a bombshell was dropped on you. First that their only daughter was a witch, and then the other shock that they were in danger of being killed by a mad wizard. It really was a lot to take in and Harry thought that it was a wonder that Mr. Granger hadn't followed through with his earlier, if indirect, threat to kick them all out of his house.

Finally, after a very long moment of uncomfortable silence, Mr. Granger cleared his throat. "I believe I also speak for my wife, when I say that we need some time to think and talk about this. I realize that we have to decide quickly, so I only ask you to wait for an hour, at the most. In the meantime, why don't you join your friend and my daughter, while my wife and I talk?"

Draco gave them a reassuring smile, as he got up from the couch. "Of course, we understand. Take as much time as you need, we'll wait."

"Thank you!" The relief in Mrs. Granger's voice was palpable, as she, too, rose from her chair. The other three men followed suit. "Would you like anything to drink while we talk?"

"No, thank you. We are fine," Ron told them. "But if you'd show us to your daughter's room..." Harry couldn't help but grin upon hearing the barely concealed excitement in his best friend's voice. It seemed as if Harry wasn't the only one, who wanted to know how Hermione's room looked like.

"Of course, please follow me."

And follow her they did, through a short corridor and into a room painted in pale pink. A huge grin spread over Harry's face, as he saw Hermione sit with her baby-self in her arms, talking. It seemed as if Hermione was telling her younger self a very fascinating story, as the young girl was listening to her new friend with rapt attention.

Harry noticed that Hermione's parents returned to the living room and closed the door to discuss what they were going to do in private. He, Ron and Draco stepped further into the room, finally alerting both Hermiones to their presence. Harry saw that the grin on Ron's face was even wider than on his own, though this most likely had a completely different reason.

"Well, 'Mione," he chuckled, "I'd never taken you for a girl who'd decorate her room in pink."

A small blush crept on Hermione's face, as she glared at the redhead. Thinking that he should intervene quickly before one of their infamous fights began, Harry just wanted to say something, but Draco beat him to it, as the blond wizard gracefully sat down across from the two Hermiones.

"So, and what have you lovely ladies done since you've left us?"

"Fairy tale!" the little girl squeaked and clapped her hands.

Hermione smiled. "Yes, I was just telling her the fairy tale about the Hippogriff Buckbeak and the brave boy who saved him from the evil wizard."

Harry grinned at her, as he, too, sat down across from them, along with Ron, completing the circle. "Oh, but I hope you haven't forgotten the girl, who was just as brave as the boy, and helped him to save Buckbeak."

Ron snickered, "And don't forget the part, in which the brave girl punches the nasty git. Ow!"

"Don't swear in front of the ladies, Ronald," Draco hissed through gritted teeth, causing Harry to chuckle. "And besides, it was a slap, not a punch."

"Unfortunately," Hermione said regretfully. "In hindsight, a punch would have been far more satisfying than a slap."

"You wound me with your words!"

"Oh, get over it, Draco." Harry slapped him on the back. "We're disrupting little Hermione's story time and that's not nice. So, please, _Jean_, go on with your story about the Hippogriff and the brave boy and girl...

"And git..." Ron muttered under his breath, earning another light punch from Draco to his arm.

The time passed quickly, while the four time travellers were entertaining the little girl with stories about wizards and magic and dragons and merpeople, and played a couple of different games with her. Not for the first time since Draco had woken up after his near death experience, Harry marvelled at the changes he now found in the other young man. Draco was the one who was speaking the most, almost as if he could read every wish in the little girl's eyes, and treating her like a princess. The older Hermione was visibly touched by her boyfriend's actions, as she was watching the two of them with a loving and fond smile on her face.

"Weird, isn't it? Seeing yourself at this age and actually playing with yourself?" Harry murmured, as he inched nearer to Hermione, so that he wouldn't disturb Draco and the little girl.

"A bit," Hermione admitted, "but it's already getting easier. I'm just surprised that she has taken such a liking to me from the very first moment. I wonder, if she knows..."

"That you're her?" Harry shrugged. "Possible that she might feel something, but I don't think we will ever know for sure."

Just at that moment, they could hear footsteps drawing closer. Almost out of instinct, Harry's wand slipped into his hand, ready to defend this little girl, but he should have known that he was overreacting, when Hermione's parents appeared in the doorway. Mr. Granger was having his arm around his wife's shoulder, as he was pulling her close to him, and Mrs. Granger's eyes were rimmed red. She had obviously cried.

"If you'd come back to the living room," he said. "We've come to a decision."

"Of course," Harry replied and got up from the floor, directly followed by the others. Hermione was gathering the toddler up, before placing her in her mother's arms.

Once in the living room, everyone sat again down on their old seats. It took a short moment, until Mr. Granger had collected himself enough to speak, and when he did, his voice was rough. "First of all, my wife and I, we would like to thank you for telling us, both about our daughter and the warning. As much as it is a shock that Hermione is a witch, many things make sense now and we won't stand in her way, if she wants to follow this path."

"Oh, believe me, she'll be a remarkable witch," Draco told him with a smile. "She already shows a lot of promise."

"We've always known that she'd be great at whatever she will do, when she's older," Hermione's mother replied with a fond smile on her face.

"As to your offers... As you probably know, my wife and I are dentists and we have our own practice. I'm sure you realize that we can't just go away for an unknown period of time, and it would also be suspicious if our house suddenly disappeared. So, after a long and thorough discussion, my wife and I agreed to take you up on your third offer. We believe that it might be best, if we can continue our life as normally as possible."

Harry nodded, with a reassuring and calm smile. "To be honest, we've already expected that. But we can assure you that the protection will be strong enough to hold off any wizard that wishes to do you harm until help arrives, or until you can escape with the Portkeys. We hope of course that it will never come to this, but we want to do our best to protect you."

A heartfelt sob escaped from Mrs. Grangers throat, but it was a relieved "Thank you," that she muttered along with this. Her husband took her hand and squeezed it tightly, while her little baby girl, obviously sensing that her mother needed comfort, hugged her tightly around the neck.

Not wanting to intrude, but knowing that he had to, Harry cleared his throat quietly. "I really don't want to lose much more time, so I suggest that Ron and I return to Hogwarts and tell Professor Dumbledore of your decision. Jean and Eirian can stay behind, if you want, to answer any questions you might have."

"That would be nice," Mr. Granger answered, his voice sounding truly grateful.

"We'll be back soon," Harry promised, as he and Ron rose from the couch.

After another short look back, they left the house through the front door. None of them talked, as they looked for a safe and unwatched place to Disapparate. They arrived in front of the gates and continued their silent trek towards the castle from there. The only time they spoke, it was just as they stepped into the entrance hell, as Ron asked, "Well, it went well, didn't it? Could have been worse..."

"Yeah..." Harry mumbled, lost in thoughts. Ron was right, it could have been worse, but despite knowing that it had been their own decision, Harry wondered and feared that it wouldn't be enough to protect them, even though Dumbledore had assured them that any of those three measures would keep them safe. "Twix..."

They had reached the Gargoyle, which sprung aside upon hearing the correct password, and together they walked up the stairs to Dumbledore's office, ready to tell him everything about the afternoon and the decision the Grangers had made.

* * *

Night had already fallen over Hogwarts, when the four time traveller's finally returned to their chambers, all of them with sluggish moves. They were tired to death, which was no big surprise, as Harry reflected, seeing as he had woken them at about two o'clock this morning, which had been nearly twenty-two hours ago. It had been an incredibly long and exhausting day, for all of them, both physically and emotionally. So all they did was exchange a quick goodnight, before each of them went into their room (Draco went with Hermione of course).

But at least this day had been successful. Their families were all safe and Harry could sleep a bit better, knowing this. His own parents with little Harry, Ron's family and Draco's mother with her son were all at Hogwarts, and Hermione's parents and her little self were safe at home. Dumbledore had erected the wards around their house and the whole neighbourhood in person, with a little help from Hermione, and had keyed them all into the wards, so that it wouldn't sound the alarm, when they came into the neighbourhood. He had also given the Grangers the promised Portkeys, silver necklaces with pendants that were formed like a phoenix, which were activated by the saying the word 'Sanctuary' while holding onto the pendant.

They had done everything they could to ensure everybody's safety. Now all they could do was wait. And hope. Wait for whatever Voldemort would do, and hope that their safety measures had been enough.

Still, sitting still and waiting for someone else to act, especially if this someone was Voldemort, was something Harry had never been good at.

He wondered, how long it would take until he attacked, and how long he could just sit back and twiddle his thumbs.

At that moment, Harry didn't know yet, how much this would test his patience.


	36. Godric's Sacrifice

**A/N: Wow, it's really been an eternity, hasn't it? But now, my Master thesis is written, only one more paper and I'm finished with university! Yay! I'll see if I get a job in October, before I start my further education to become a teacher in February, so I hope that I'll have more time to write at least for a few weeks. I want to finish this story, soon, and there are only a few more chapters to go! I think there will be a total of around 40 chapters, when I'm finished.**

**But thanks to all of you who have stayed with me the whole time, and also to new readers, who, despite having seen how long I've been writing on this story, have still started to read! You're fantastic!**

**But, now I don't want to keep you any longer! Here's the next chapter!**

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Chapter 36: Godric's Sacrifice

"Harry, are you alright?"

Hermione's worried voice tore him out of his thoughts, and Harry suddenly realized that he must have been staring at the eggs on his plate for quite a long time. He looked up and saw her concerned gaze resting on him, but it wasn't just her gaze, it was also Ron's and even from their places in the hall, his parents' eyes that were directed at him.

Forcing a smile on his face, of which he just knew that it wouldn't convince them, he replied, "I'm okay... I just haven't slept much last night."

And the night before that, and the night before that and all the other nights before that for the past few weeks. But his friends didn't know that. They didn't know that he spent most of his nights, not being able to sleep, kept awake by his worries about why Voldemort still hadn't acted, and most importantly, waiting for him to act. They didn't know that he spent his nights correcting countless essays and quizzes – thanks to his sleepless nights, seven years worth of DADA final exams had already been corrected, just two days after they'd been written – and reading as many books on offensive and defensive magic as possible just to be prepared. He had even started wandering the halls at night, often ending up either in the library or training in the Room of Requirement until the early morning hours, when he finally returned to his chambers, hoping to be so exhausted to get at least two or three hours of sleep. Secretly brewed Pepper-up potions and unhealthy amounts of black coffee kept him going during the day, only to repeat the circle again.

At first Harry had tried to find out more during his sleep, hoping to slip into Voldemort's mind again, but nothing happened. Nothing at all. So his worries continued to grow, robbing him of the sleep that might give him the heads-up of a coming attack, which made him become more anxious and kept him awake even more. It was a vicious circle, and he didn't know how to break it.

If someone had asked Harry, he would have answered that the days and weeks following the revelation that Voldemort knew where, or better when they came from had been the hardest for the whole time he and the others had been in the past. Even though everyone who was in danger because of this was safe, either at Hogwarts or under layers of protective charms and the careful watch of the Order, Harry was jumpy all the time, his muscles tensed so much that they were ready to burst.

Every day, every hour, no, even every minute, he expected to hear news of an attack, he expected that Voldemort had finally decided to attack Hogwarts or Hermione's parents. He never let his guard down anymore, always carrying his wand with him and always waiting for something to happen, so he had scared quite a few students, when they had come up from behind him to ask him something.

On the other hand, this had helped him a lot, just not as he had expected. When James had noticed how tense Harry was all the time, despite his hard tries to hide it, he had made good on his promise, aka. threat on a prank war, which he had given, after Harry had tricked him into believing that the love of his life was a woman at least twenty years his senior.

This prank war had started quite harmlessly, with Harry's hair turning all colours of the rainbow after breakfast a few weeks ago. Harry had been oblivious to this for most of the day, his thoughts so far away and at the same time so deeply immersed in theories about what Voldemort could do now that he hadn't even noticed the snickers from his students. First after classes, when he had gone to his room to freshen up, he had taken a look in a mirror and recoiled in shock. It only spoke of how tense he was that he hadn't even been able to laugh about it at first, but had rather asked himself, how James could have slipped him this. His resolve to be more careful about everything he did had strengthened then – enemies could be everywhere after all – and at the same time Harry had sworn payback.

And this was how a small prank war had ensued at Hogwarts, between a former student and a professor. This prank war, which had started pretty small, like colourful hair, had quickly turned into something that not even students were safe of, as they often became involuntary victims in the pranks. After the hair-incident, Harry had retaliated with turning James' robes pink, which had caused a one-foot-long nose on Harry's face, who had then decided that it was quite funny to see James' clothes, except for his underwear, turn invisible in the middle of the Great Hall. It was then that suddenly not even the students were safe anymore, as James had sneaked down to the kitchens before breakfast and put a potion in the coffee and pumpkin juice, which had turned every male voice into a house-elf like squeak for twenty-four hours.

Fortunately, almost the whole student body thought that this prank war was hilarious, even if they were victims from time to time, and it also helped to alleviate some of their stress and fear about what was happening outside the walls. It helped them to feel like children and teenagers once more. Even Hermione, who had watched this exchange with a disapproving frown at first, fearing that the students' performance in classes and tests would suffer, had begun to enjoy this, after Harry had enlisted her and the other time travellers' help to play a prank on his father.

Still, although this prank war got Harry to think about something that wasn't Voldemort or classes from time to time, it didn't help his sleepless nights. This was just something to keep him occupied during the day and it was at night that the real worry and the real fear began to gnaw at him.

It had simply been too long since Voldemort had done something, too long. With each day that passed, Harry's fear that he might be planning something big, something that would catch them all off guard, grew stronger, and Harry felt absolutely helpless.

"You better get some sleep this night, mate," Ron suddenly tore him out of this thoughts. His friend's face was set in a worried frown. "I can't have a Seeker who falls asleep on his broom tomorrow."

The match. Right. The final exams, even the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s had been written a few days before and this meant that it was now time for the Quidditch match everybody had been waiting for this term – the match between the teachers and the students. "Don't worry, Ron," Harry replied, hoping that the smile on his face was more genuine now. "I'll go to Poppy this afternoon and ask her for some Dreamless Sleep. After all, I want us to win, too."

Ron looked satisfied with this answer and returned his full attention to his breakfast. Harry, however, sighed almost inaudibly. He forced himself to eat another few bites of his breakfast, hoping to alleviate his friends' worries, and just wanted to take a sip from his cold coffee, when, out of the corners of his eyes, he caught his father looking at him again, only that this gaze wasn't worried but rather mischievously this time.

With a small smirk, Harry wandlessly exchanged the coffee in his cup with the coffee in his father's cup and took a careful sip. Nothing seemed to happen, for which he was grateful, but all of a sudden laughter broke out, first at the Gryffindor table and then also at the other tables, as James Potter suddenly began to sprout silver and green feathers. Toasting to his father, Harry emptied his cup and rose from his chair. He nodded at his friends and left the Great Hall under the raucous applause of most students, to whom he bowed, before exiting the Great Hall. Once again a prank averted.

* * *

The morning passed in a blur, as did the afternoon. In each of his classes he had organized duels, seeing as neither he nor the students could concentrate on a theoretical class. Most of the time the students were talking about the upcoming Quidditch match anyway and so Harry cut them a lot of slack, if the duels turned out to be more comical than serious. At least none of the duellers needed to visit the Hospital Wing after class, but Harry still had to go there, so that he would have a full night of sleep before the match. It really wouldn't do them any good, if their Seeker fell asleep on the broom.

"Harry, you know that I don't hand out the Dreamless Sleep potion if it weren't an emergency. The danger of becoming addicted to this potion is too big, as you also know."

"Yes, Poppy," Harry agreed eagerly, his hand already reaching out to take the vial Poppy Pomfrey was holding in her right hand, but she snatched her hand away right before he could grasp it.

"But," she added, her gaze softening upon him, "it's a miracle that you haven't fallen asleep on your feet, yet, Harry. It's been a long time since I've seen circles that are as dark as yours under your eyes, or any eyes for that matter. Your eyes themselves are bloodshot and your face is too pale for my liking. Merlin knows you need a good night of sleep and that's why I've given in to your friends' pleading to give you this potion for tonight."

Harry started and had to suppress an irritated groan. "Don't tell me Ron and Hermione have been to see you?"

"Yes, but it wasn't just them. Eirian, James and Lily have been here too. Even dear Clara was with them. They caused quite a ruckus, as they argued for you and you know how much I don't like people being too loud in my Hospital Wing. They are all really worried about you and it's only because of this, and because of what I now see in front of me, that I'll give you this potion. It's just for tonight, as I don't want to treat you tomorrow after you've fallen off your broom, but after that, we have to figure out how you could get more sleep."

"Thanks, Poppy," Harry said to her, as she finally gave him the vial with the precious potion. At first he had been a bit annoyed with her and with his friends, but they really seemed to be worried about it. And they also seemed to have noticed that he hadn't been sleeping much for quite some time. He really needed to do something about that. "I promise, this is really just for tonight, and I'll try to get more sleep after that."

"I truly hope so, Harry. And now, go eat and have an early night. After all, as much as the staff would like you to have a good night of sleep, we also don't want you to sleep in and miss the match. I'll keep my fingers crossed for the staff's team."

"Thanks, Poppy, for everything," Harry told her with a smile, before he turned to leave for the Great Hall. Having something to eat now sounded great, he was starving.

* * *

Harry's eyes opened at once, when he heard his alarm clock go off. For the first time in weeks, he didn't feel as if he would wearily stumble through his room, trying to gather his clothes and hoping that the hot shower would wash off most of the sleep. For the first time in weeks, he felt wide awake and filled with far more energy than he was used to. The Dreamless Sleep potion had definitely done its work. Just a few seconds after he had drunk the potion and his head had hit the pillow, he had been out like a light, with no dreams, visions or worries disturbing him and robbing him of his precious rest.

Poppy would definitely get a bunch of flowers for this.

With a wide grin on his face, Harry flung his legs over the edge of the bed and went to the bathroom. If the day went just half as well as the last night, their team would most certainly win the match.

Loud. That was just one word Harry would use to describe the Great Hall that morning. As far as he could see, every single student was sitting in the Hall (and not even at their House Tables, but everywhere), talking to their neighbours, wishing the students' team good luck and even yelling across the tables in excitement.

The players of both teams were already dressed in their Quidditch robes and it was quite amusing to see Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall sit side by side at the staff table, dressed in their purple robes and their bats leaning at the wall behind them. However, another thing Harry noticed was that, probably for the first time, his colleagues knew how the House Teams always felt like right before an important match – their breakfast was almost untouched. The only ones who were eating, were the teachers who were simply watching the match, just like Hermione, though the fact that she was talking a hundred miles a minutes was any indication of her excitement and her nervousness.

"Good morning," he greeted his colleagues cheerfully, as he sat down on his chair and began to pile the scrambled eggs on his plate. This was another first – he actually felt like having breakfast before a match. This night of good and uninterrupted sleep had apparently helped more than his spirits. His teammates looked at him a bit incredulously and Harry spent the first few minutes answering questions like 'Are you excited' ("Yes."), 'Are you nervous?' ("A bit.") and are you ready to win this game – this question came from Ron, which Harry answered with "Hell yes." He was ready, more than ready. They had trained hard and they had a good chance.

Time truly moved differently, when one was excited, Harry noticed yet again. One minute, he was sitting in the Great Hall, speaking with his colleagues and answering their questions, while he was eating, then he was suddenly leaning against a wall in the changing room, while Ron was giving them their pep talk, and then, all of a sudden, he was sitting on his broom, high up in the air, and beneath them, the referee of this match (Yannik something or other, who was also refereeing matches of the professionals) blew his whistle to begin the match.

For a split second, none of the players in the air moved, but then they were all suddenly flying around – everyone except for Charlie Weasley, who was hovering at exactly the same height as Harry was. The boy gave him a confident smirk, before he, too, was off, scouting for the Snitch.

Exhilaration, pure and unadulterated joy washed over him, as he zoomed through the air. He was back. This was not just training, this was not just flying for fun, this was the real thing. The rush of a game. No more chasing the Snitch and then letting it go again. No, this time he had to catch it as soon as possible, no more dawdling in the air or playing with it.

"_Draconis got the Quaffle, passes it to Hayden who passes it to Flitwick and SCORE! Ten-nil for the teachers! Who would have thought! Now Winters throws the Quaffle far over the pitch to Emerson, who drops it, but Denton is there to catch it. One pass to Kane and SCORE! Ten-Ten! If someone had told me before, I'd have never believed that a snake, a badger and a lion could play that well together! Samira Masen has really done a good job with her team! In the meantime, Potter and Weasley are still both high in the air, circling the pitch while looking out of the Golden Snitch._"

Harry's head whipped around, when he heard the commentator's voice and his eyes widened in surprise, as his suspicion was confirmed. There, at the commentator's place, he could see Sirius. He hadn't seen his godfather in more than a half year, not since the Halloween Ball, as he still refused to believe that Harry and his friends didn't pose a threat.

"_And again, ten points to the professors! The points total is forty-twenty now. But the students are again in possession of the Quaffle... oh, nice hit Professor Dumbledore! Denton lost the Quaffle thanks to a well-aimed Bludger. And the Quaffle is falling and falling. Draconis and Emerson are both shooting towards it, but Draconis is just a bit faster, grabs the Quaffle and score! Fifty to twenty! Come on, boys and girls! You don't want to let your old teachers win, do you?_"

Shaking his head, Harry returned to the present and began looking for the Snitch once again. It wouldn't do any good, if he thought about his non-existent relationship with the Sirius from this time. As long as Dumbledore didn't allow them to tell him the truth, Sirius would never come around.

The roar coming from the stands was almost deafening with the students clearly having the superior number, as their team levelled the tie just ten minutes later. Time passed. The game was a fast one – neither the students' nor the teachers' team giving an inch. While Harry and Charlie were circling the pitch, both teachers and students continued to throw the Quaffle at the hoops, where they were stopped by the Keepers just as much as they went through.

Harry was really surprised by how evenly matched the teams really were. They all worked together, no matter which house they came from. Slytherin and Hufflepuff, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, they all played with each other. No fighting, not even shouting. Like a well-oiled machine the Quaffle went back and forth between the chasers. The beaters were good enough to rival Fred and George and the Keeper was really holding her own, despite letting more goals through than the students probably liked. However, Ron was also having troubles keeping the Quaffle from going through the hoops, no matter how good he was.

Even Charlie, although he hadn't done much except for flying around the pitch high in the air and looking for the Snitch, seemed to know what he was doing. Unlike many other Seekers had done in his past, Charlie wasn't shadowing him. Harry admired him for that. But at the same time, this was making it more difficult for Harry to catch the Snitch should he spot it. Because, if the Snitch was nearer to Charlie, Harry was sure that the boy would see it as well and then Harry had almost no chance to get to it before the other Seeker.

_"Ow! That must have hurt!"_ Startled, Harry looked around and saw Flitwick cradling his right arm to his chest, and winced in sympathy. That looked as if it hurt. Cursing under his breath, Harry knew that he needed to find the Snitch quickly, before the other team could make too many points. They had no reserve player, no one, who could take Flitwick's place. There hadn't been enough professors on the staff, willing or able to play and they had been more than happy and lucky, when Draco had recovered just in time to replace Elizabeth Thatcher, when she had gotten the news of her pregnancy. "_But kudos to Jones for even daring to attack a professor like that, and her Head of House on top of that. I'd say with Flitwick injured and no reserve player for his position that the students will now have a great advantage over the... hey, what's that?_"

Harry, whose gaze had again wandered around in search for the little golden ball, darted around, looking for what Sirius might mean, until his eyes landed on the bench for their reserve players, only that there weren't supposed to be any. Still, a wide grin spread over his face, as he saw a mob of dark messy hair and purple robes down there and his heart soared. One of his strongest wishes was about to come true.

"_Oh, come on, James... you've gotta be kidding me!_" Sirius complained loudly. "_Do you really want to ruin this victory of the kids? And who did allow you to play? You're no teacher."_

James Potter, however, simply smirked at his friend, and mounted his broom. The moment that Flitwick landed next to him with Madam Pomfrey already waiting for him, James shot off and came to a sudden stop next to Harry. Winking at him, he asked, "Surprised to see me?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?" Harry shot back. "Well, you know, Sirius is right... You're no teacher."

"Ooh, but that's where you wrong... Ron had been worried about something like that happening and had talked to Dumbledore about possible reserves... Actually, it was Dumbledore who decided to ask me. And to get me on the team, he appointed me assistant teacher of Transfiguration a few days ago, after he had already forewarned me a few weeks before that. We just didn't tell anyone except for the other chasers about it."

"So that's why you've watched most of our practices in the last few weeks!" Harry realized with a laugh.

"Yep... and now please excuse me... my fellow Chasers are expecting me." With a quick wave, James allowed his broom to spiral downwards until he was floating next to Draco and Christophe Hayden, who didn't seem surprised to see him at all, while Harry just shook his head in amusement. And yet, he couldn't wipe the happy grin from his face. He was really playing in one Quidditch team with his father!

"_Ah, I just got the notice that apparently, James Potter is now Professor James Potter and that he will replace Professor Flitwick, whose broken elbow might need an hour or two to heal. Well then, _Professor_, show us what you can do!"_

The referee blew his whistle again and the game continued, just as heated as before. However, the students now clearly had an advantage, even though James was playing very well together with his new teammates. For a second, Harry entertained the fleeting thought, if he hadn't trained secretly with the other two chasers, and then decided that it might very well be possible, as he remembered how they hadn't seemed to be surprised at all that James was suddenly going to play with them.

Still, cursing under his breath, Harry noticed that the slight lead of fifty points that the teachers had managed to gain before Flitwick's injury was quickly shrinking despite his father's best efforts. And then it happened...

_"170 to 170! This match is truly meeting all expectations and is even surpassing them! It's been a long time since I've seen a match that was as exciting as this one!"_

A golden glint right in the middle of the field caught his eye. His heart began to pump harder in excitement, shooting adrenalin through his body. Not even a split second later, Harry was lying flat on his broom, and shot off. However, exactly at this moment, he also noticed out of the corner of his eyes that Charlie, who had just been on the opposite side of the pitch, had seen the Snitch as well.

Pushing his broom as fast as he could, Harry extended his hand, hoping against hope that the Snitch might, if not fly in his direction, then stay where it was. He would rather have the Snitch fly off in any direction, but not into his opponent's waiting hand.

_"The Snitch! It seems that both Seekers have seen the Snitch. Yes, and there it is!"_

"Come on, come on..." he mumbled, his whispers easily drowned out by the ecstatic crowd, as everything around him seeming to move in slow motion. The Snitch still wasn't moving at all, seemingly content to flutter at the same spot and waiting for them.

Charlie was getting closer as well and it would only be a matter of inches that would decide, who of them was going to get the Snitch.

Thirty yards, twenty yards, ten yards, five yards, five feet...

Harry's fingers curled around the golden winged ball at the same time as another hand grabbed it. Their eyes widening in surprise, neither Harry nor Charlie could prevent the crash that followed, as they collided and both tumbled the seven feet towards the ground. Harry braced himself for the impact, but it still didn't stop the air from leaving his lungs, as he hit the ground. Stars danced in front of his eyes, and he noticed that everything around them was completely silent.

He took a deep breath and something moved in his right hand. Raising his head slightly to see how Charlie was doing, he saw the redhead stare at their hands with a surprised look on his face. Harry could just mirror this expression, as he saw what Charlie was staring at. Throughout the short fall, none of them had let go of the Snitch and if he looked at their entwined fingers around the ball closely, it really seemed as if they had grabbed it as the very same moment.

"I guess that's a tie, huh?" Charlie muttered breathlessy.

Harry let his eyes wander to the points and seeing that the points total was still at 170 to 170, he replied dryly; "Yeah, just in more ways than one." He wondered how they would do it. Admittedly, Harry had never been as crazy about the history of Quidditch as Ron, but he couldn't remember a match, in which both Seekers had caught the Snitch at the same time.

A chuckle reached his ears and he turned around to Charlie, who then started to laugh out loud. A grin spread over Harry's face, as he heard Charlie really laugh for the first time in months, and he began to chuckle as well at the irony of this. This much anticipated match had just turned either into a big disappointment for both teams, as neither had won, or it would be regarded as a sensation.

_"Bloody hell! I can't believe it! I've just replayed the scene with Professor Thatcher's Omnioculars and our eyes haven't betrayed us! Potter and Weasley have caught the Snitch at the very same time! This means this game ends with a points total of 320 to 320 for... well... both teams. We have neither a winner nor a loser! Well, congrats to both teams, I guess..."_

A roar went through the crowd, but if it was a roar of disbelief, outrage or surprise, or maybe even joy, Harry couldn't discern. He didn't even have time to think about this for a second longer, as both teams flew up to them. With a slight grimace of pain, Harry sat up, finally letting go of the Snitch. Charlie followed his example, but just as he, too, wanted to loosen his grip around the Snitch, Harry closed Charlie's fingers around it. "Keep it. It's yours."

"Thanks, professor," Charlie grinned. "It was a good game."

"That it was."

"Harry, mate! Charlie, are you alright?" Ron asked breathlessly.

"We're fine," Harry answered, while giving Charlie a small side glance, asking if this was true. Charlie just kept grinning in reply. "Just a few bruises."

"Oh Harry!" a female voice cried and just a split second later, Harry found himself being crushed in an incredibly strong embrace and he could only see red. "Don't do something like that ever again!"

Harry laughed. "I'm fine, Lily. Nothing's happened." At least, as Harry slightly turned his head to free his eyes from the red hair, he could see that Charlie was equally smothered by his mother. Gently pushing Lily away, Harry got up to his feet, groaning slightly. Yes, there would definitely be some dark bruises come tomorrow, or maybe even later tonight, but nothing serious. "Well, I don't know about you," he said, directed at not just his team, but also the students' team, "but I want to have a Butterbeer, and if I was informed correctly, everything needed for a huge party has been set up in the Great Hall, while we've been out here."

* * *

Harry and Charlie were sitting next to each other at one of the long House Tables – which weren't even used for separating the Houses at the moment, as the students were once again mingling with the other Houses, and especially seeing as the teachers had also abandoned the staff table and had joined the students in the festivities – opposite of a still very astonished Ron.

"I'm telling you, really... never in the recorded history of Quidditch have two Seekers caught the Snitch at the same time!"

"And we still believe you, Ron," Harry laughed, "just as we have believed you the other, how many times was it?" he asked Charlie, who was holding his sides laughing as well.

"Two-hundred-and-twenty-three times I think."

Ron glowered at the two Seekers, but Hermione patted his shoulder in comfort. "Don't be angry, Ron... There's always a first time for everything."

"My girl's right, as usual," Draco drawled, as he put an arm around Hermione's shoulder and pulled her close. "And you know Potter... always doing the impossible."

"Thanks Draco," Harry muttered dryly, still with a grin on his face. "Aaah, and there comes our great Beater! You've done a really good job, Albus! And you, too, James, for the few minutes that you have played."

Albus Dumbledore, who had just stepped up to their table together with his and Ron's parents, allowed a small smile on his face, before it was replaced with a serious expression. Harry's heart immediately fell. This could only mean one thing – bad news.

"Thank you for the compliment, Harry. But you have done a very good job. You too, of course, Charlie," Dumbledore replied pleasantly. "But now, Charlie, I hope you don't mind if I steal your professors for a moment. I'm sure your teammates would want to celebrate your soon to be infamous catch some more with you."

"Of course, sir," Charlie answered at once, and with one quick wave towards his professors, went to join some of his other teammates.

"Now, would you please follow me to my office?"

"Of course," Harry echoed Charlie's words, exchanging a quick glance with his friends and his parents. They all seemed to have caught on to the subtle tension that was emanating from the Headmaster and the dread was visible on their faces.

The walk to the Headmaster's office was short and silent. First when everyone was seated in comfortable chairs did Albus Dumbledore speak again. "I'm sure you can already guess that the news I'm going to share now with you isn't good. As a matter of fact, not good might be an understatement."

"What is it, Albus?" Lily asked with a quiet voice.

"Just a few minutes ago, I received an owl from a good friend at the Ministry. I had asked him to keep his eye on a certain person, to listen to any news pertaining to him. Well, it was earlier today that Obliviators and Aurors were called to a house in a small town, where Muggles had sighted strange fireworks over said house. They had called the police, and when the officers entered the house – the door was unlocked – they found an old man sitting in his sofa, dead."

"Who?" Harry asked, his throat tight. He only knew too well, what those fireworks were.

Dumbledore lowered his head, as he spoke the name. "Norton Lewthwaite."

* * *

Harry wiped some sweat from his forehead, as he left the Room of Requirement, where he had the spent the last few hours fighting against opponents this room provided him with, all of them preferably looking like Voldemort or his Death Eaters. None of these opponents had survived – but they hadn't been real after all. While this brought some relief for his anger, the real threat was out there and even more dangerous than before.

There was still the smallest chance that Voldemort's visit to Norton Lewthwaite had been fruitless, that he hadn't gotten any information out of this man, but if Harry was honest with himself, he knew that it was nearly impossible to keep a secret from Voldemort. Lewthwaite must have been an expert at Occlumency to keep Voldemort out of his mind, but as far as anyone knew, he wasn't.

And this meant one thing.

Voldemort was now certain that they had come from the future. And he now also knew how it had happened. The only thing, he presumably didn't know yet, was why and who had done this, though it really wouldn't take a genius to figure it out. So it was only a matter of time, until Voldemort realized that Harry and his friends were bigger threats than he had thought, if he had been the one to send them to the past to get rid of them in the first place.

Harry's feet carried him past their chambers straight to his other refuge for the night – the library. Night had fallen some time ago and Harry could only navigate through the dark aisles with the tip of his wand lit up by the Lumos spell. Harry didn't know, what he was doing here, only that he didn't want to sleep yet. He wandered past the shelves, his hand stroking several volumes, almost ready to pull them out to read them, but always stopped at the last moment, as a quiet voice in the back of his mind told him that this wasn't the book he wanted to read.

First when he had pushed the seventh book back into the shelf, after he had taken it half out, another book, just a few books next to the one he had just held in his hand, caught his eye. He didn't know what it was that drew his attention to the book. It was nondescript, with a red linen binding and not even a title. Still, Harry didn't even hesitate a second, as he pulled it out and sat down with it at the nearest desk.

In the light of his wand, Harry opened the cover to see, if there was a title inside, but nothing. No title, no author, not even a date. The second page was empty as well, but on the third page, he discovered nearly illegible writing in black ink. Squinting, Harry brought the light nearer and tried to read. The writing looked like old English writing and even the few words he could read sounded as if they had been out of date for quite some time, maybe even for centuries.

Suddenly, the writing shimmered and from one second to another, he could read it all. Both the writing and the spelling looked like the one he found in his textbooks – modern day English, just as he knew it. And still, something was weird about it, and Harry soon saw what it was, as he discovered the date on top of the page.

_Samhain 1001_

Harry released a startled gasp. If the date was real, then the text following it would be almost a thousand years old. If the date was real, then the text dated back to the time of the four Founders of Hogwarts.

His curiosity now piqued, Harry continued with the text.

_It is with a heavy heart that I put down those words in writing. They shall be words of warning and helping words for those who need it at the same time. Although I hope that no one would ever have to make the same sacrifice as I._

_It has been one year and three months, on the first day of Lughnasadh, since I have begun to suffer. Suffer for the loss of a dear friend and suffer for the burden I have taken upon me. Yet, had I truly first lost my friend back then? Hadn't I already lost him before that day? _

_It is with a heavy heart that I admit that, while I may have lost him before that day, I had never given up hope until I stood facing him and seeing what he had become. The Dark had changed my friend, twisting him to the point of being nearly unrecognizable. _

_On that fateful day out in the glen he had gloated about the Dark helping him to achieve eternal life, about being close to immortality, and he offered to share it with me. I had been deeply saddened, for I knew that I had been too late to save my friend. I had been prepared for this, with my sword at my side and the proper incantation in my head, yet I hadn't been sure if I was ready for taking my friend's life._

_We battled, Light against Dark. I barely remember anything of that battle, only one thing has been burned in my mind ever since that day. My memory clearly replays how I impaled him on my sword. I felt his blood on my hands, as he smiled. My friend had been confident that he couldn't die, yet, when I spoke the incantation, his face showed agony. I felt his pain, as the Dark was drawn from him, my sword serving as conduit, and as I absorbed it all._

_After that, only darkness, until I awoke one day gazing into the worn faces of the two maidens who have suffered at my side and who will continue to suffer after this day. I had been close to Death's door, yet I survived, while my friend had lost his life to the mortal wound I had inflicted on him. _

_From the moment I awoke to this very day, I feel his Dark in my body. Coiling, ready to strike. From the very beginning, the Light has struggled to control the Dark, but the Dark is growing stronger with each passing day, with each passing minute. It won't be long, until it transforms me into the same monster my friend had become._

_To prevent this, I swore that I wouldn't live past this night. My friends, dear Rowena and dear Helga, have wept, as I informed them of my decision, yet they helped me brew the Potion that would allow me a peaceful death, to join my friend Salazar in the beyond._

_The following shall be a description of the ritual that allowed me to save my friend from the Dark, yet it shall, too, be a warning to those who intend to perform it, for the Dark will consume them, too._

_Godric Gryffindor_

Harry's hands trembled, as he finished reading the passage.

He was now sure of two things.

Here, in his hands, he was holding the key to Voldemort's defeat.

And, by killing him, Harry would also forfeit his own life.


	37. No Rest for the Restless

**A/N: Guess what, here's a new chapter! O.o And I've got my master's degree (Master of Education)! Yay! And tomorrow I'll go on vacation in Vienna (visiting some friends of mine), so you're lucky that I managed to finish this chapter today. But I swore to myself that I'd try and I did it! Yatta!**

**But I have to warn you... this chapter is more like a transitional chapter, with things that needed to be said and done before I can move on to more important things... We're getting closer to the great finale, after all. :)**

* * *

**Chapter 37: No Rest for the Restless**

The days following Harry's discovery in the library, the last few days of term, passed in a blur, and all too soon it was time to watch over the students, as they got on the Hogwarts Express to return home for the summer holidays.

Many of the students wished Harry and his friends good holidays, which they returned with smiles, and somehow Harry couldn't believe that already one school year had passed since they had been dropped in this time. Everyone was returning home, even some of the teachers returned to live with their families and it was mostly only them who stayed at the castle, along with those who sought protection within Hogwarts' walls.

After the Quidditch match, later at the party, and after Dumbledore had talked to the time travellers about Norton Lewthwaite's fate and Harry had stormed to the Room of Requirement, the Headmaster had announced in the Great Hall that all classes were cancelled until the end of term, much to the students' delight. This was an even better ending to an already very good end of the current term, both in the students' and teachers' opinion. After those strenuous two terms, especially the four time travellers were more than ready to relax and not do anything at all – except for brewing the potion, which would (hopefully) bring them home safely, and worrying about Voldemort, which they did anyway, at least Harry.

And Harry now had time to think more about the little red book he had found in the library, the same little red book which he kept locked up in his trunk, away from his friends, who didn't need to know about this, when he wasn't holding it in his own hands. He spent hours reading it again and again in the secure four walls of his room or the Room of Requirement, looking for any information that might help him to defeat Voldemort. It helped at bit that, at the same time, it was truly interesting history. Harry was sure that Hermione would devour this little book within an hour, if she ever got her hands on it – something which Harry wasn't planning on letting happen.

In this book, Godric Gryffindor had not just depicted his final battle, but also everything leading up to it. Salazar Slytherin's descend into darkness, how Gryffindor had, with the help of ancient texts that dated back to Merlin himself, developed the incantation and ritual, which, in the end had defeated Slytherin and ended his own life as well, and of course a more detailed description of the final fight.

After Harry had read that book for the first time, he had spent more than one hour lost in his thoughts to process everything he had just found out. One thing that had surprised him was the close friendship between Slytherin and Gryffindor – it wasn't just a normal friendship, or an acquaintance, as he had always suspected, no, the two of them had been as close as brothers. They had grown up together in the same small village, having basically known each other since their birth, and had later, before they had begun their magical education, sworn an oath of friendship to each other, sealing it with blood.

In the Muggle world, this ritual resembled blood brotherhood, but in the magical world, this oath was much more powerful. Harry had done some research about this ritual and had even asked Hermione about it (who had looked at him with a wary look in her eyes, as he had explained that he had read about it somewhere and thought it was interesting), and so he had found out that by the mingling of blood, the two persons basically became brothers.

A connection between them was formed by that ritual, which brought them much closer than simple friendship would ever do, and this connection gave them a sixth sense about each other. This was how Gryffindor had found about his friend's growing addiction to dark magic, but before he could bring him back from that edge, it had already been too late.

Gryffindor might have been able to safe his friend with the ritual, hadn't Slytherin died of the wounds, only that none would have been the same afterwards – Slytherin nothing more than a Muggle, without any trace of magic to be found in his body, because Gryffindor had taken the burden of absorbing all of that magic into his own body.

But without that connection, the whole ritual wouldn't have been possible. This was one of the facts that interested Harry the most, because this explained, why he was the only one who could kill Voldemort. If he hadn't been convinced of the Prophecy's content before, he definitely was now. Only with a connection already established between the two participants in the ritual was it possible to channel the other's magic and take it in as their own.

For Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin it was the oath of friendship, the blood brotherhood.

For Harry and Voldemort it was the connection that had been established by the curse scar. The ritual for Voldemort's revival had only strengthened that connection, because since then they were not only connected by magic, but also by blood.

And to make sure that he was ready for Voldemort to finish him off once and for all – if it was the Voldemort of this time or his own time, or maybe, Merlin help him, even both – Harry kept studying everything that was needed in the ritual with old dictionaries at his side so that he wouldn't mispronounce one of the old Gaelic words of the incantation. He shuddered to think of the catastrophic consequences this ritual might have, if he made just one tiny mistake.

The only thing that he still needed for the ritual was Gryffindor's sword, which hadn't been found yet, in this time, as far as he knew. Harry guessed that he should have a talk with the Sorting Hat soon.

However, there was one thing which worried Harry – it was the sacrifice he would have to make, if he wanted to defeat Voldemort with this ritual. If Gryffindor couldn't resist the lure of the dark and had to give up his life so that it wouldn't take control over him, Harry was sure that he stood no chance. Godric Gryffindor was one of the greatest wizards that ever existed, so how should he, Harry Potter, be able to do something not even Gryffindor had been able to do?

The best would be, Harry thought, if he died alongside Voldemort. It would be quick, no suffering, neither for him nor for his friends. And he wouldn't have to think about suicide, because, if he was completely honest with himself, Harry very much wanted to live a long life. He didn't know, if he'd be brave enough to take his own life after the battle was finished, once Voldemort was dead. However, if he didn't die as consequence of the ritual, suicide would be the only way to prevent the rising of a new Dark Lord, a Dark Lord in the body of the Boy Who Lived. Yet another reason, why his friends didn't need to know about the ritual. They would only try to stop him.

Of course, if he planned to take down both Voldemorts in both times, he would need to survive the first encounter and could then give his life in the second fight. It really would be for the best, because having the dark magic of two Voldemorts in his body was something he really didn't want to think about.

And yet, Harry thought about all of this again and again, as each single minute of his free time was devoted to the book, which made it hard to avoid his friends' suspicions. But he kept them pacified and from asking questions by sleeping and eating enough and sacrificing some time each day to spend with them and his parents. Harry hoped that, as long as he did this, they wouldn't ask too many questions. He really didn't want to lie to them, but he also didn't want them to know. While his parents knew of the Prophecy, his friends were still unaware, after all. And he wanted to keep it that way – as long as was humanly possible.

Next to his own room, the Room of Requirement was the only other place, where he could spend his time studying the book and training without being disturbed. However, it was during one of those long hours he spent in that room, when his head began to hurt from all the reading and brooding that Harry decided to do something else in the room for a change.

He knew from the many times he had used the Room of Requirement that this room could fulfil almost every wish of the persons inside of it, but he had never fully tested the room's full potential, something which was completely overdue, Harry decided with a grin.

So Harry began to devote some time each day to unravelling the room's secrets and it was at the end of July, when he made his biggest discovery so far. He had been thinking about the chances that Voldemort might attack Hogwarts during term and how it would be nearly impossible to get all the students home through the Floo network. Another escape route might be good, he had thought and suddenly, a hole had formed in one of the walls. Curious, Harry had stepped through the hole and found himself in a tunnel. With his lit wand in his hand, Harry had followed the narrow pathway until another hole had opened up in front of him and he had been standing in the Hog's Head, much to his astonishment.

His own surprised look had been mirrored on the face of the barman, Aberforth Dumbledore, to whom Harry had quickly explained this discovery. The Headmaster's slightly younger brother had agreed with Harry that the students should use this tunnel as an escape route, should Hogwarts be attacked and that he would help them get to safety. With this promise, Harry had returned to the room, just in time to find Ron walk into it, wanting to escort Harry to the small birthday party that had been organized for him. Once again, Harry had completely forgotten about his birthday, but it didn't matter to him. At this moment, he couldn't wait to tell his friends about the discovery he had made, as this was something he needed to share with them and the other professors.

* * *

It was some days after his birthday that Harry was once again brooding over the little red book, but this time, around lunchtime, he was disturbed by a breathless Ron, who came storming into his room without knocking. Instinctively, Harry shut the book and hid it behind himself, as he stood up to face his friends. "Ron! What's wrong?" he asked, more than ready for battle.

"It's... it's time..." Ron breathed. "Mum's in labour."

Harry's mouth fell open, as his eyes wandered to the calendar at his wall. Was it really the 11th already? The last few weeks had passed so fast and now he had not just forgotten about his own birthday but about this as well. "Where is she?"

"Mum's in the Hospital Wing and dad's with her. I've already told the others... you're the last... they're all waiting in front of the Hospital Wing. Pomfrey wouldn't allow anybody else inside."

"Then let's go!" Harry said, for once completely forgetting about the book, which hadn't left his mind once in the past few weeks.

He couldn't believe it. It was really time! In just a few hours, maybe even minutes, she would finally be born.

Harry swallowed hard, as he hoped that he could hold her. It would be too good to be true.

When they arrived at the doors to the Hospital Wing, Harry saw that everyone else was already there. His parents were sitting next to Bill and Charlie, talking to them quietly – probably to reassure and calm them – and Hermione, Draco and even Dumbledore and McGonagall were sitting on conjured chairs.

Harry wondered how they could all be so relaxed. The only person, who was probably just as nervous as he, was Ron. When Hermione saw them, she gave Harry a quick hug and a reassuring smile and conjured two more chairs for them, though neither Harry nor Ron sat down. Hermione also informed them that the younger Weasley children were staying with Clara in her and Severus's rooms in the dungeons, though Harry didn't think that this information was important at all. All that mattered right now was behind the closed doors of the Hospital Wing, and not knowing what else to do, he began pacing, with Ron quickly following his example. One might almost think that they were the nervous fathers waiting for good news.

In the end, after a couple of hours, Harry finally stopped his pacing and slumped down on the chair. His feet were beginning to hurt and if the slight twitch in Hermione's face was any indication, it would have only been a matter of time, until both he and Ron found themselves petrified. So he grabbed Ron's arm and pulled his friend down on the chair next to his. Ron was still tapping with his feet, but it was, at least, an improvement to the pacing. Harry, on the other hand, was becoming much too nervous to do anything, except for running his hand through his hair again and again, as even more time passed.

Neither Madam Pomfrey nor Arthur had been seen since they all had begun their long wait in front of the Hospital Wing, nor had the door been opened for that matter. Additionally, Madam Pomfrey seemed to have put a silencing spell on the doors, since they also couldn't hear a thing.

"What's taking them so long?" Charlie muttered under his breath, but since it was so quiet in the hallway that you could hear a pin drop to the floor, everyone heard his question, of course.

"I don't know," Bill sighed. "Ron didn't take so long. He just wanted to get out. But I have no idea why Lance won't hurry up."

Harry had to suppress a snigger, as he exchanged a quick glance with his friends. His mother caught this glance and raised an eyebrow, but Harry just shook his head slightly. His parents had no idea about the secret he and his friends had kept so successfully since Christmas, but it would only be a matter of a few more hours, maybe even minutes, until they all found out what they had been keeping from them. Harry really couldn't wait to see the surprised looks on their faces.

Fortunately, they didn't need to wait much longer, as just ten minutes later the door was thrown open and an excited Arthur Weasley came running through the door. He stopped in front of them, the grin on his face lighting up the whole hallway, as he announced, "I'm a daddy, again! A daddy of a little baby girl!"

Usually, people would get up and congratulate the father, but this time (almost) everyone just stared at Arthur in shock. "A... girl?" Bill asked confused. "But there hasn't been a girl in..."

"Six generations!" Arthur exclaimed. "I know... little Ginevra is the first Weasley girl in seven generations!"

Still, no one moved, until Harry, shaking his head, went up to Arthur and shook the older man's hand firmly, only to be pulled into a strong hug. "You knew, didn't you?"

"Of course," Harry replied with a grin. "And believe me, Ginny will become a great young woman. A force to be reckoned with."

"Ginny, huh?" Arthur asked with a wink, but before Harry could say something, Ron was already there, ready to congratulate his father, followed by Hermione and Ron. And slowly, the others also began to wake from their stupor and lined up behind Draco.

Once everyone had shaken Arthur's hand or hugged him, Madam Pomfrey appeared in the door and allowed them to visit Molly. Suddenly, Harry was beginning to feel nervous again, as he and the others were ushered to a bed in the corner of the Hospital Wing. But when he was finally standing at the bed, looking down at an exhausted Molly and the small pink bundle in her arms, all the nervousness was gone.

Smiling, he congratulated Molly to the birth of her daughter and watched the little girl, as the others offered their congratulations. There were already some fine strands of the red hair he loved so much on her head and he knew that, if her eyes were open, they would be chocolate brown. But at the moment, she was sleeping, just as exhausted, if not more, as her mother, not caring at all for the visitors who had come to see her.

"She's beautiful," Harry heard himself mumble, completely entranced by the small creature lying in her mother's arms.

"Would you like to hold her?" Molly asked him.

Harry looked at her, startled, but there was a knowing look on her face, and in the end he simply nodded. Arthur helped her raise the little girl into Harry's arms and as soon as he held her, Harry's face split into an even brighter smile. This was Ginny, and even though he had already met so many other children, who he knew as older persons in their own time, it was so hard to believe that this small girl was going to be the woman he loved more than anyone else. "Hey there, Gin..." he murmured softly.

He was so enchanted by her that he hadn't noticed his father coming up to him and leaning over his shoulder, until he spoke, "So, _that's_ her..."

"Who?" Lily asked, as she joined her husband at Harry's side.

Harry looked up and saw his father wink at his mother. "The mysterious girl."

Warmth spread through his cheeks and Harry just knew that he was looking very much like a tomato at this very moment. Had he really been so easy to read? His father was never going to let him live that down!

Just at this very moment, the little girl's eyes opened and, just as Harry had expected, they were warm and brown, just like the ones he remembered so clearly. However, only a split second later, those eyes were squeezed shut tightly and a loud wail startled everyone, who had enjoyed the peaceful silence.

Immediately, Harry handed her back to her mother, since he had no idea what to do with a crying baby, and was stunned to see that Ginny quickly stopped crying again.

A low chuckle to his left caught his attention and he looked at Ron, as the redhead teased, "Looks like she can't stand you."

Rolling his eyes, Harry replied, "Yeah, right... Would like to see how she reacts when you hold her."

"She'll adore me, of course," Ron announced, puffing out his chest.

"Whatever you say, Ron, whatever you say..." He clapped his friend's shoulder, before he moved his eyes from Ron again towards Ginny, whose eyes were again closed. Molly's eyes were also drooping, so he said, "We should let them get some rest. They had a hard day."

"Harry is right," Madam Pomfrey told them in her no-nonsense voice. "Arthur can stay, of course... but the rest of you has to leave. And get something to eat, for Merlin's sake. I can't have you all starve to death, because you waited for the little one to be born."

* * *

Ginny's birth changed Harry's routine a bit, as he visited her at the end of every day for about an hour or sometimes a bit longer, if Molly and Arthur would have him. But while he was spending some time with her, he also began to work harder. Harry was now more determined than ever to rid this world of Voldemort before they had to leave, so that Ginny – and all the other children of course – could grow up in peace, without having to worry about the Dark Lord and if they'd live to see their next birthday.

While he now knew the incantation and everything that needed to be done for the ritual to be successful by heart, Harry put more energy into his training. Nothing of what he had found in the book would be of any use, if Voldemort killed him before he even had the chance to perform the ritual. And he had been slacking in the past year, not training as much as he used to, especially as the really dangerous situations had been few and far between.

The last time he had met this Voldemort, he had been lucky to escape alive, and the one in his time was even more powerful, so Harry needed all the training he could fit into his day without neglecting his friends. Running in the mornings, followed by harsh physical training and in the afternoon practicing old and new spells. It was almost the same routine as during auror training and Harry truly hoped that he would be strong enough, once it was time to face Voldemort. First after he was finished with all of this, did he allow himself to see Ginny. This was the highlight of his day and each day he was working towards this goal, knowing that everything he did was for her and the other people from this time.

It was just another few days after Ginny's birth, when Harry realized how much time he had exactly left. Draco, Hermione and Severus had called for a meeting in Dumbledore's office, because they had important news about the potion.

"So, what's the sitch?" Ron finally asked, once everyone, meaning everyone at Hogwarts, who was aware of their status as time travellers (even Narcissa Malfoy, even though she was still suspicious of Draco, still not fully believing everything about them coming from the future), had settled down on various chairs in the Headmaster's office. Harry agreed silently with Ron's question. He, too, wanted to know what was going on. Hermione had just told them that it was about the potion, but she hadn't said, what it was exactly about. Harry almost feared that something had gone wrong, that they wouldn't be able to return after all, so it was understandable that he was nervous.

"Ronald asked a very good question," Dumbledore agreed with twinkling eyes. "Hermione, please enlighten us, why you, Draco and Severus have called us to this meeting."

Nodding, Hermione said, "We have news concerning the time travelling potion. It is now in its final stage and according to our calculations, it will be finished around October 14."

"Finished?" Ron wanted to know. "As in, we-can-go-home–finished?"

"Exactly, Weasley," Draco smirked. "However, seeing as the full moon is around that time, we still have to wait two more weeks. The new moon, and therewith the day on which we will return home, is on—"

"Halloween..." Harry realized with a start. He remembered having read somewhere that his parents had been killed on a new moon's night. This couldn't be true! Why did they have to leave on this night, of all nights? Couldn't the potion just wait another month before they left?"

Harry must have voiced his last question out loud, as Hermione's looked at him with sympathy shining in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Harry... We could try storing the potion for a month, but we don't want to risk it. We have no idea how it will react, even if we put a stasis spell on it."

Forcing a light smile on his face, Harry replied, "I know, Hermione... and maybe it's for the best. I mean, it's not like anything will happen this Halloween." He laughed nervously, his stomach clenching. Somehow, even though he had realized that time had passed, he hadn't realized that in just a bit more than two months, it would be Halloween. The Halloween, on which, in his time, Voldemort had killed his parents.

But there was no reason, why something should happen now. His parents knew what had happened in his time, they knew that Wormtail was a Death Eater and if they stayed at Hogwarts, they wouldn't even need to go into hiding. No Fidelius Charm, no Secret Keeper, no chance to be betrayed.

"This really is good news, if I may say so," Dumbledore broke the silence after a short moment. "But I believe this brings another matter to my attention."

"You will need new professors for our subjects," Harry said and then grinned wryly. "I mean, I should have expected it. After all, the Defence post really is cursed."

A few chuckles went through the room, before Hermione mumbled, "I'm sorry, Albus. This is really a bit short notice, with school starting again in two weeks, but the process to reach the final stage was extremely critical and we didn't want to say anything until we were certain that the potion will be successful. From now on, not much can go wrong anymore."

"And that's really good to hear. But to allay your worries, I have already some people in mind, who can fill your posts. I will contact them today and ask them to join our staff. So, there's no reason to be sorry. As a matter of fact, it would be good, if you could assist them in the first few weeks, so that they have enough time to settle in at Hogwarts and get used to teaching."

"Of course," Hermione answered, speaking for all of them. "It'll be our pleasure."

They talked some more about what they would do now, but Harry didn't really listen. He glanced repeatedly at his parents, but their faces showed none of the worry he still felt. Maybe there really wasn't anything to worry about and he was just seeing ghosts.

But one thing was sure now – he only had about nine more weeks to face and defeat Voldemort.

Harry's gaze wandered to the Sorting Hat sitting on its shelf, wondering how and when he could manage to sneak up to this office and ask the Hat about Gryffindor's sword.

And once he had the sword, he only had to find out where Voldemort was hiding, so that he could end this once and for all.

* * *

"So, 'Mione," Ron said, as the four time travellers and their families (except for Narcissa, who had retreated to her room) were on their way back to their common room about half an hour later. "What was this other thing you wanted to talk to us about?"

Other things? Harry was confused. Had he missed something?

A very un-Hermione-like giggle escaped her lips, as she grinned at them wickedly. "I'll show you, once we're back... What I want to show you is in my room." She grabbed Draco's hand, who just smirked down at her, and somehow Harry got the weird feeling that Draco was in the know about what Hermione wanted to tell them, or rather show them.

Fortunately, they only needed a few more minutes until they were all gathered in the common room and Hermione had disappeared in her room. She appeared not even a minute later, holding a fruit jar in her hands. Somehow, this situation seemed slightly familiar to Harry, though for a moment, he couldn't remember what it was. First, when Hermione stopped a few steps in front of them, he could see something small moving in the glass and his eyes widened. "You didn't..."

Ron's eyes were as wide as his, as the redhead muttered, "Yes, she did... Bloody hell!"

"What's going on?" James asked. "It's just a beetle, isn't it?" He walked up to Hermione and took a closer look at the beetle in the glass. "A beetle with some funny markings around its eyes."

"That's not just a beetle," Harry nearly choked. "_That's_ Rita Skeeter."

"Uh, who?"

"Rita Montgomery," Hermione explained to James. "Skeeter is her maiden name. I did some research about her. She was married to Richard Montgomery. He died a year ago."

"R. Montgomery!" Ron exclaimed and slapped his forehead. "Of course."

Harry realized that Hermione was careful about her wording. He guessed that Hermione had researched her, when they had to deal with her the first time and that this was how she finally realized that Rita Skeeter and R. Montgomery were the same person, when she finally made the connection between the name under the articles and the name she had read in her research.

"So, she's an Animagus," Lily realized. "That's how she knew all those things."

"Exactly," Hermione nodded. "And when I set her free, she knows that I know her secret..."

"And this will keep her from writing more of those hateful articles..." James grinned. "Brilliant! I could kiss you, Hermione. You're my hero!"

"Hey," Draco protested with a smirk, as he wrapped an arm around Hermione's waist and pulled her closer. "That's my girl."

"And as I said, she's truly brilliant!" And then, before anyone could react, James lunged forward and planted a wet kiss on Hermione's cheek.

Ron was the first who burst out laughing, but the others quickly followed, even Harry, who hadn't laughed so hard in weeks.

And for the first time that day, since that meeting in Dumbledore's office, Harry finally realized why his friends were so happy.

They were truly going home.

Only Harry still had one small thing to do, before he could leave this time, and this was killing a Dark Lord.


	38. The Fidelius Charm

**A/N: Happy belated Easter, everyone! I know, it's again been a really, really long time, but I won't make any excuses except for saying that RL sometimes really is a b****. However, here it is, and we're slowly but surely getting closer to the grand finale of this story. So I have to warn you – this chapter is fast paced and there are many different, yet interconnected scenes, which are important for the finale (which will start in the next chapter, btw). **

**Now, I don't want to keep you any longer! Have fun reading and maybe leave a short review?**

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**Chapter 38: The Fidelius Charm**

With everything he had going on, Harry barely realized how quickly time passed once again after they hafd been told that the potion was soon to be finished. So, before he knew it, there were only a handful of days left until the start of the new term. On August 27, Dumbledore invited the teachers to a staff meeting following breakfast. There, he had told them, he would inform them about the new organization of the staff. After all, four of them wouldn't return to their teaching positions at the beginning of term.

But Harry was sure that he already knew who was going to take over Transfiguration and Potions. After all, Hermione had only been offered the position as Transfiguration professor so that Professor McGonagall could be of more use in the war against Voldemort. Now, however, with Hermione not being able to return, it was pretty obvious that Minerva McGonagall would once again take over her duties as professor and Head of House of Gryffindor. The questions on who would become Potions professor was just as easy to answer. After his recovery, Draco had had worked alongside Severus in Potions class and seeing as Severus already knew all the students _and_ had to keep the job to keep Voldemort satisfied, Dumbledore would be a fool to appoint someone new.

But the question of who was going to become the new Defence against the Dark Arts professor and Flying Instructor was still unanswered, so Harry hoped that Dumbledore would tell them this at the staff meeting.

So they were all anxiously waiting at the large table in the staffroom for Dumbledore and the new professors. As Harry had already guessed, Minerva and Severus were sitting in their respective seats, but three seats, including Dumbledore's, were still free. In quiet whispers, the other teachers were wondering who Dumbledore was going to bring, but none of them had any idea, much to Harry's chagrin. He really hated waiting.

However, he didn't need to wait much longer, as precisely at nine o'clock the door to the staff room was opened and Dumbledore stepped inside, followed by two persons who were still hidden in the shadows. But as soon as they stepped into the light, Harry couldn't hold back the small gasp that escaped his mouth, as his eyes fell on the person stepping inside right after Dumbledore.

"Harry..." Hermione mumbled, just as surprised. Harry only shook his head slightly, hoping to tell her that she didn't need to worry. It was a logical choice and Harry would have to live with it for just two more months.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Dumbledore said, effectively quieting the mumbles that had broken out in the staffroom. "May I introduce to you your new colleagues. I'm sure many of you remember our new Flying Instructor, as she had been a supreme flier herself back in her Hogwarts days a few years ago. Unfortunately her promising career as Quidditch Chaser had been cut short by an accident. I ask you all to welcome Rolanda Hooch."

Applause and shouts of welcome rang through the room upon the introduction. Harry allowed a tiny grin on his face. He hadn't realized that Madam Hooch had already been on the staff for so long, but after Ron she was probably the best choice.

"And now, another familiar face for most of you. I give you as our new Defence against the Dark Arts professor none other than one of our most memorable students of the past few years," a quiet snort from Professor McGonagall interrupted Dumbledore, though he only grinned at her, as he conceded, "alright, maybe memorable in a way that doesn't include having been Prefect or Headboy. However, he is now one of the best Aurors of the Ministry and I'm glad to have won him as professor. My dear colleagues, I give you Sirius Black."

Harry couldn't hear the applause this time, as he stared right at Sirius. Much to his surprise, Sirius stared right back, but the look in his godfather's eyes was murderous. Harry almost recoiled, but then reminded himself again that Sirius still didn't know and wasn't supposed to know who he really was. _Just two more months_, Harry repeated to himself. And in these two months, he could and would avoid Sirius as much as possible, although this might be hard, if Harry wanted to spend time with his parents. After all, Sirius was still their best friend. _Damn!_

"Now," Dumbledore said again, after the applause had calmed down and the three of them had sat down in the empty seats. "There are a few announcements I have to make concerning the new organization of the staff this year. As we all know, Professors Potter, Granger, Weasley and Draconis will leave us at the end of October. I thank them very much for the last year and everything they have contributed to this school. Now, however, there is one last thing I need to ask of them."

Harry startled slightly, when he heard this. What more could Dumbledore want them to do during their last month here at Hogwarts? Then, he suddenly tensed. No, that couldn't be... _Please... no..._

"Seeing as their announcement to leave the school at the end of October came rather sudden, I will only ask of them to assist their new colleagues during these eight weeks of school until they go home. So, would you do that for me?"

"Of course," Hermione said immediately, though she looked a bit remorseful as she glanced at Harry.

After also having given Harry a questioning look, to which he didn't react at all, Ron agreed, "Yeah, I'd like to help."

Shrugging, Draco only said with a smirk towards Severus, "Well, Severus and I have been teaching together for the last few months of last term, so I think we can do it for another two months."

"And what about you, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, with an imploring look, a look that Harry couldn't refuse.

With a sigh and avoiding the daring glare Sirius was still directing at him, he said, "Agreed." However, at the moment he said this, Harry suddenly wasn't sure anymore if he had just done the right thing.

This was going to be two long months.

~*~

The following day, the first meeting with Sirius about the future lessons proved to be a catastrophe. One thing Harry had to admit though – Sirius was really thorough with his lesson planning, but even the slightest suggestion that Harry made, even about how he could contribute instead of just walking around and correcting students while they were practicing spells, met deaf ears. As a matter of fact, Sirius hadn't exchanged two complete sentences with him. There was only one thing Sirius had said and this was, "Don't be in my way." Harry had had to swallow hard and to remind himself again that this wasn't the Sirius he knew. And that this Sirius didn't know who he really was.

After half an hour, Harry decided to give up. There was nothing he could say to convince Sirius of some small changes, despite his own teaching experiences that he had gained in the past year. Angrily, he threw his hands into the air and exclaimed, "That's it. If you don't want me to help you, go to Dumbledore and tell him so. I won't stop you."

"Believe me," Sirius grumbled. "I tried. But... tolerating... your presence in my class was the only condition Dumbledore made me agree to, before he took me. And trust me, I wanted this position. When Dumbledore offered me to come to Hogwarts, there was no way I could say no, even if I had to work with you."

Harry looked at the young Sirius, confusion written all over his face. "Why did you want to come to Hogwarts so desperately?"

Raising his eyebrow, Sirius replied, "You have to ask? You know what I think of you and your friends. Ever since I heard that James and Lily fled to Hogwarts with Harry, knowing that they were under the same roof as you, I tried to find a reason to come to Hogwarts as often as possible and to stay as long as possible."

Harry clenched his teeth and balled his fists tightly at his sides. If he could just tell Sirius who he was, everything would be different. They could spend their time a thousand times more pleasantly, alone or together with James, Lily and Remus. And he really, really wanted Sirius to know who he was. He didn't want to waste this second chance with Sirius and wasting it was what he was forced to do in their current situation.

_Damn you Dumbledore! You and your bloody rules!_

"I would never harm them," Harry hissed.

"That's what you keep saying, but I just don't trust you. There's something... fishy about you. Something I can't put my finger on. The whole situation is too suspect. When you and your friends appeared the night of the Death Eater attack, all of us immediately agreed that you're dangerous, even James, but then, suddenly, twenty-four hours later, you're his _cousin_ and working at Hogwarts." Sirius stopped talking for a moment, in which he pinned Harry with a heated glare, before he continued with a harsh voice, "I have no idea, what you have done to James and Lily, Dumbledore, and hell, even Remus, to trust you, to make them believe this cock and bull story you've told them, but this won't happen to me. What I will do is use my time wisely here at Hogwarts to protect my friends from you and to find out _who_ exactly you are."

"Good luck with that," Harry told him coldly, already turning around to go. "But let me give you one advice. To find out, who I am, _just open your bloody eyes_!"

Without another word, Harry left Sirius' office, storming directly to the Room of Requirement to work off some steam.

~*~

September 1 arrived with storm clouds and an unusually small group of drowned and scared looking First Years. Seeing as they were still assisting in classes, the four time travellers didn't have to leave their spots at the staff table and so were able to watch the whole Sorting Ceremony without their view being obstructed. The Sorting Hat's song was surprisingly short and to the point, warning of the present dangers and instructing everyone at Hogwarts to stand united, after he had explained the values of the four houses.

This reminded Harry that he still needed to have a short chat with the Sorting Hat sometime very soon.

As McGonagall called the first name, Ron nudged Harry into his side and motioned with his head to a tiny girl towards the end of the line of First Years who, just at this very moment stumbled over her feet. Her formerly blond hair turned the same colour as her face, as she got up again, and Harry had to suppress a grin. _Welcome at Hogwarts, Tonks._

Harry watched the line growing shorter with each child that put on the Sorting Hat, until McGonagall called "Tonks, Nymphadora" and the little girl with now bright red hair tripped once again over her own feet and landed, miraculously, directly on the stool. Some pupils snickered, both at her clumsiness and her name, but Harry couldn't see Tonks' reaction, as the Sorting Hat slipped down half her face. Counting the seconds, Harry reached _thirty-two_ before the Hat called out "Hufflepuff!"

"Hufflepuff?" Harry mouthed to Ron in surprise, but the redhead only shrugged with his shoulders. Tonks had never told them which house she was in and honestly, he had never bothered to ask. After all, he liked Tonks, so which house she came from shouldn't matter, and yet Harry was a bit surprised that she was in Hufflepuff. Though, maybe he really shouldn't be, Harry decided with a grin. Now that he thought about it, the Tonks he knew displayed all the signs of being a true Badger – loyal and hard-working. And after having gotten to know Cedric Diggory during the Triwizard Tournament, Harry knew never to underestimate a Hufflepuff.

"A true disgrace to the Black-line," Harry heard Draco mutter, though there was a smirk on the blonde's face, as he did this. "Not just a blood-traitor, but also a Hufflepuff to boot. Ow! Damn you, woman! Watch the hair!"

Harry had to suppress a snicker, as Hermione hit Draco square over the back of his head.

"Honestly, sometimes I don't know how I put up with, you insufferable git," Hermione scolded him.

Fortunately for all of them, no one else at the staff table had realized what this exchange had been about, and just before the situation between Draco and Hermione could escalate into a full blown lover's quarrel, the last student had been sorted (into Ravenclaw) and Dumbledore had risen to his feet and began to make his announcement. Knowing already everything the Headmaster was going to say to the students, Harry tuned him out and let his gaze wander over the four House tables. With a frown he realized that there were again less students who had returned to Hogwarts than the year before. It was about time that the war would end.

And Harry only had eight more weeks to do this.

~*~

Classes began regularly on the 2nd of September. Sirius was already in the classroom, when Harry entered, but they didn't even exchange a greeting, as Harry settled down on a chair at the wall behind the teacher's desk, and waited for the first students to arrive. It was Fourth Year Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, so it would be Charlie's class that they would have their first lesson with. Slowly, as the students entered the classroom, Harry thought, somewhat nostalgic, back to his first class. How nervous he had been then, and now he was actually a bit sad that _he_ wasn't the teacher standing in front of the teenagers and welcoming them to their first lesson of Defence against the Dark Arts. Instead, he had to sit back and follow Sirius' lead.

Still, many students greeted him with smiles, as they sat down behind their desks. Charlie even made a point to walk up to him and shake his hand, which, Harry noticed, Sirius watched out of the corner of his eyes with a narrow glare, eventually barking at everyone to settle down. With a somewhat guilty look on his face, Charlie quickly went back to his seat. Harry now saw that many students were watching Sirius warily, who seemed to notice this, as the glare disappeared from his face and was replaced with a welcoming smile.

As Harry was watching Sirius interact with the students and teaching them about jinxes, Harry had to admit – if a bit grudgingly – that Sirius was a good teacher. He had the teenagers' rapt attention – something which certainly wasn't a given at their age – and explained things so that everyone could understand it. Finally, when it was time for them to practice the spells on each other, it was Harry's turn to assist, walking around and helping the students. However, whenever he arrived at a new pair of students, they first asked him why he wasn't teaching them, to which Harry only replied that he would leave Hogwarts at the end of October and that Professor Black was just as good a teacher as he was, if not better. They should just give him a chance.

During the whole lesson, Harry and Sirius didn't interact much with each other, and when they did it was with forced politeness, just for the sake of the students. And when class was finally over, Harry let out a quiet sigh of relief. If the tension between them remained as strong as it was now, the two months would be a lot longer than he had anticipated.

At least now he didn't have to concentrate on planning the lessons at all, so he could do other, more important things, like training in the Room of Requirement or spending time with his parents and, of course, Ginny.

~*~

However, despite his worries, the weeks passed much faster than he had anticipated, and suddenly, Hermione came storming into their common room. Red faced and out of breath, she came to a skidding halt in front of them. Harry and Ron, who were the only ones in the room at the moment, immediately got up worried.

"Is everything alright?" Harry asked, at the same time as Ron wanted to know, "Has something happened?"

"Yes," Hermione panted, a beaming smile almost splitting her face. "The potion is finished!"

Finished? Already? Harry threw a look at the calendar on the wall, and indeed, without his realizing it, September had crept by and it was already the fourteenth of October. His time to face Voldemort was running out.

"Really?" Ron grinned brightly. "That's fantastic! Did you hear, Harry? The potion is finished! Just two more weeks and we can go home!"

Forcing a smile on his face, Harry replied, "Yeah, that's great. Good job, 'Mione!"

A brilliant red blush graced Hermione's cheek. "Thanks, but it wasn't my doing... I mean, not all of it. I just helped. Sev and Draco did most of the work. As it is, they're still in the lab, bottling the potion so that it's ready to be used on the 31st."

"Ah, Hermione," Harry scolded, shaking his head, still having this fake smile on his face. "Don't sell yourself short. I'm sure you've contributed a great deal to the potion..."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "And even if it's just changing Malfoy from an unacceptable git to an acceptable git, so that he could help, too."

Harry laughed, the laugh sounding hollow to his own ears. "While you keep bickering, I'll go to my parents and tell them the good news. I'm sure they'd want to know."

Feeling that what he had said remained mostly ignored, as Hermione just waved at him to go, while she was glaring at Ron for his last comment, Harry left without another word. As soon as the portrait had closed behind him, his face fell. How had he not noticed how much time had passed once again?

When term had started, he had still had a bit more than eight weeks to finish Voldemort and now, it was just two weeks. How had that happened?

Maybe, Harry stopped dead in his tracks, as an idea hit him. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be him doing this in this time. Maybe that's why, though Voldemort was almost constantly on his mind, he hadn't decided yet to make a move. Maybe some higher being was interfering with his decisions, leading his mind always to other things, whenever he thought that it was time to do something.

Well, not anymore. As soon as he had told his parents about the Potion, nothing would keep him from planning to kill Voldemort in this time once and for all.

As usual, when he came to his parents' rooms, Harry didn't bother to knock, but simply opened the door and stepped inside. However, what he saw surprised him – though it probably shouldn't have. There, around the coffee table on the couch and the armchair, his parents were sitting with Sirius, apparently deeply engaged in a serious conversation. But the noise of the portrait opening and closing got their attention, and immediately, a mask slipped onto his face, as they all turned around.

Averting his gaze from the glaring Sirius, Harry was glad to notice that at least his parents were happy to see him.

"Harry," Lily exclaimed with a smile. "What a surprise. We didn't expect you!"

"Well," Harry tried to sound as normal as possible with Sirius being there. "I wasn't planning on coming by this early in the afternoon, but I have come to share some... good news with you. Well, actually, Hermione was the one with the good news about ten minutes ago, but I just wanted to tell you."

Hoping that mentioning Hermione would already give them a hint of what he was talking about, Harry left it at that. He crossed his fingers and waited a few seconds, until a look of understanding blossomed on James' face. "Oh... is it about... really?"

Grumbling, Sirius rose from the armchair. "As it seems that I'm not welcome here anymore, I'll better leave."

"No, Sirius," James immediately rose as well. "You're always welcome... it's just..."

"I understand." Sirius' face was hard and unreadable. "You rather spend time with _him_ than you spend it with one of your best friend. He has bewitched you, don't you see it? And I've warned you from the very beginning. I told you to stay away from him, but you didn't, and see where it got you. Keeping secrets... from _me_! Sometimes I feel as if I don't know you anymore, mate. And it's all _his_ doing!"

He pointed a finger at Harry, causing Harry to flinch slightly. Because, in a way, Sirius was right. Lily and James had had to change because of him. Who wouldn't change, if they were told that they were dead in another timeline and that their son had to grow up alone?

_Slap!_

Sirius reached up to touch his right cheek, as it was already reddening. Lily was standing in front of him, panting harshly. Harry hadn't even seen her move from the couch, but there she was, almost hovering over Sirius, despite her being much shorter than him, as she snarled in a protective tone, "Don't talk about Harry that way!"

Sirius took a step backwards at her tone, but then just shook his hand. "You're not talking about your son, Lily. Your son is napping right now, next door. This man, even though he shares my godson's name, _isn't_ your son."

"Maybe," Lily hissed, "if you'd just open your bloody eyes and just see what's right in front of you, you'd see that he _is_ my son."

Nervously laughing and still shaking his head, Sirius took another step backwards. "Don't you see what he's doing? You're slowly going bonkers. I really, really hope that you'll go back to normal once you're out of his influence in one week..." Without another word, Sirius turned on his heel and left the room.

Harry let out the deep breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, once Sirius was gone. At this very moment, he didn't know, what to feel. His mother had just basically told Sirius outright that he was their son, and yet, Sirius still didn't believe them.

"I'm sorry, son," James said, as he put a hand on Harry's trembling shoulder. Harry hadn't even realized that he'd been trembling. He gulped down another breath of clean air and forced himself to calm down.

"It's okay... but thanks," he told both of them. "For standing up for me. But you really shouldn't have done that."

"Don't worry, Harry," Lily said softly, gently leading Harry to the armchair that Sirius had just vacated. "He'll come around, someday... He just needs some time to cool down. And maybe, then he'll finally see you for who you truly are."

"I doubt it," Harry muttered under his breath, too quietly for them to hear.

Clearing his throat, James then steered the conversation away from Sirius. "So, you said you had some good news..."

Giving his father a grateful smile, Harry nodded, "Yeah... Hermione's just barged, and I mean that literally, into our common room to tell us that the potions is finished. That means, in two weeks, on Halloween, we'll go home."

"That's really good news, Harry," Lily told him with watery eyes and she went over to him to hug him tightly. "I mean, I'm really going to miss you, but we all know that you don't belong here. You need to go back to your own time."

"I know... It's just... I'm also going to miss you two so much..." His voice cracked, when he said this, and he hoped that his parents hadn't noticed. "I mean, I know that I have to go back, if just to finish off Voldemort... but it's so early. There's not enough time left here for me..."

"Oh Harry," Lily sighed, as she exchanged a glance with her husband. "Harry... there's also something we need to tell you."

"What is it?" Harry's worry immediately grew again.

"It's..." James began hesitantly. "It's about the reason Sirius was here in the first place today... Lily and I, we've thought long and hard about it..."

"About what?"

"Next week, we're going home, back to Godric's Hollow."

"What?" Harry almost exploded, jumping up from the armchair. "But it's not safe! You have to stay at Hogwarts!"

Lily put her hand on his arm, hoping to calm him down. "We can't hide here at Hogwarts forever. This isn't our home. Our home is in Godric's Hollow."

"But Voldemort..."

"Won't find us," James promised him. "We'll go into hiding, under the Fidelius Charm."

"No!" Harry shook his head vehemently. It seemed that history was about to repeat itself. "You can't go under the Fidelius Charm. You can't."

Once again, Lily's arm wound rightly around Harry's neck, as she pulled his head down. Whispering soothingly, she said, "We'll be alright, if Sirius becomes our Secret Keeper. We've just asked him and he's agreed. Next week, we're going to perform the ritual in Godric's Hollow."

Taking a deep breath, Harry allowed himself to relax a bit. Maybe, if Sirius really was going to be their Secret Keeper, everything would be alright. "Can I visit you?"

He felt Lily shake her head against him, as James answered, "I'm sorry, son. Only Sirius and Dumbledore will know where we'll be. We want to keep the risk as small as possible."

"One week," Harry only mumbled.

"Yes, one week... but you know that you can spend as much time with us as you want during this week," Lily promised.

At this moment, Harry swore that he would hold her to this promise. Once he left here again tonight, he would go to Dumbledore and demand that he would not assist Sirius anymore – after this confrontation it wouldn't be wise anymore anyway. And then, he would spend as much remaining time as possible with his parents.

~*~

When he had gone to Dumbledore, Harry was surprised that the Headmaster had granted his wish immediately with an understanding look in his eyes. This new won freedom of classes – though many of his old students stopped him in the halls to ask why he didn't come to class anymore (his answer usually was that there had been some unsolvable differences between him and Professor Black) – gave him the possibility to be with his parents much more than before, just as it had been in the summer holidays. Only now, Harry didn't even bother to train anymore. He really wanted to spend the last few days he had with his parents fully, before they left and he wouldn't be able to see them ever again.

His friends showed compassion and full support, when Harry had told them about what his parents wanted and definitely were going to do, though they didn't understand them much. In their opinion, Hogwarts really was the safest place, but in the end, it was Hermione's voice of reason that pointed out that they had the right to do what they wanted. And that, if they felt that they'd be safe under the Fidelius Charm, there was nothing they could do to stop them.

Harry had to agree with a heavy heart.

Somehow, all the time he had been looking forward to going home, to their own time, but now that this event was getting closer, all he wanted was to stay here, with the family he had never had.

He didn't tell anyone about his feelings, of course.

So, as it usually happened when something unpleasant was lying ahead, the day, a Saturday, to say goodbye to his parents was suddenly upon him. They had had breakfast together and then gone into the antechamber of the Great Hall, while Lily and James and told Sirius to go ahead to the Headmaster's office, from where they would return to Godric's Hollow.

At first, Hermione, Ron and Draco were with them, and even though the goodbye to them was an exchange of words and hugs – none of which Harry heard or actually realized – it appeared to be very short, until they suddenly left him and his parents alone.

Not knowing what to say, Harry only looked at them, until he suddenly found that he was unable to breathe. Slender arms had been wrapped tightly around his torso, squeezing him hard. Sighing quietly, Harry held onto his mother just as tightly as she held onto him, and he buried his face in her neck, as he felt the tears well up in his eyes.

"Hush, Harry," his mother mumbled soothingly. "Everything is going to be okay."

"Mum... Dad... Please, don't do this... Stay here," his last of many attempts to persuade his parents to think this over again, but just as all the other times, they didn't budge on their decision.

"It's the right thing to do, son." James hand, once again on his shoulder, as his mother loosened her grip on him and looked at him with watery eyes. Once released from his mother's grip, his father took her place. "You have no idea, how proud we are of you. Despite everything that has happened to you, you've grown up into a strong and good man."

"I love you..." Words that Harry had never before uttered to them, now slipped from his lip, as his father also let go off him.

"We know," Lily said with tears running down her face. "And we love you. Please, remember this, wherever you are. We love you."

"What your mother said," James agreed with a thick voice. "Promise us, that you won't do anything stupid or reckless. I know," he conceded with a small grin, "this is a hard thing to ask of a Gryffindor, but please, take care."

"I will," Harry lied, knowing very well that he wouldn't be able to keep his promise, not with the plan he had in mind to finally defeat Voldemort once and for all.

Silence fell over them, as Lily hugged Harry once again, before she gently let go off him again to whisper, "It's time. We have to leave now."

Harry nodded, feeling a thick lump in his throat and once again new tears in his eyes. "I love you," he just repeated again, not knowing what else to say and not able to say the fateful word 'goodbye'.

"We love you, too." This time, it was James who spoke the words. "Goodbye, Harry." He clapped Harry on the shoulder and Lily cupped his cheek one more time, before the two of them left the chamber with one long, last backwards glance. The door closed and they were gone.

Harry slumped down in one of the chairs, burying his face in his hands, hoping that this time, his parents would survive Halloween, because he wouldn't be there to save them.

Harry didn't know how long he sat there in the antechamber, trying to think of nothing and yet thinking of everything at the same time. But time had passed, he realized, as he finally, too, left the chamber and saw at the ceiling of the Great Hall that the sun was standing high at the sky. And some time, in the last few hours, the Fidelius Charm had been performed, because no matter how hard he thought of it, Harry couldn't remember where his parents were.

Leaving the Great Hall, he hesitated for a moment in the Entrance Hall. His friends were probably already waiting for him worriedly, but he couldn't go to them, yet. He couldn't go to them and face their pity. It might be cowardly, but seeing his friends and hearing their comforting words was the last thing he wanted to do now.

So his feet began to carry him out into the grounds, along the path that led to Hogsmeade. However, as soon as he had left the grounds and therewith also the Apparition wards, Harry turned on the spot and one stomach-turning second later found himself in a well-known and at the same time unfamiliar Muggle street. Luckily, no Muggles were around, and if there had been, Harry wouldn't have given a damn, if he was honest with himself. Still, with his robes he was still standing out so much, so he quickly transfigured them into a black jacket, which fitted well to his dark shirt and black trousers.

With a sigh, Harry looked up to the street sign reading Magnolia Crescent. He didn't know why his subconscious had brought him back to this place, but he didn't feel the energy to go somewhere else at this moment. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket, Harry began walking again along the streets, which he had frequented a lot during his summers stuck at Privet Drive. He passed Mrs. Figg's house, the playground and the alley, in which the Dementors had attacked him and Dudley.

Memories of this place, most of which weren't pleasant at all, passed through his mind, so when he finally reached the street where his miserable childhood had begun, Harry had suddenly found something he had to do. Straightening his shoulders, Harry schooled his face into a friendly mask and walked directly up to house number four.

He wasn't surprised to see that the lawn, as usual, was neatly trimmed and that not one flower on the flowerbed was out of place. With a wry grin, Harry wondered, who was doing the gardening, since he wasn't there yet to do it for them.

Vernon Dursley's car was standing in the driveway, so Harry could be lucky that they were actually at home. Otherwise his _plan_ would backfire before he could even set it into motion. He quickly crossed the frontyard and pressed the button of the doorbell. An annoying _ding-dong_ sounded through the house and just a few seconds later, Harry could hear his uncle's deep voice booming through the hall. Probably complaining about being disturbed on a Saturday afternoon.

Another two seconds passed until the door was wrenched open and Harry was facing Vernon Dursley, who, being as large as ever, blocked the whole doorway. Looking Harry up and down with a scrutinizing look, he quickly said, "We're not buying anything," and just wanted to slam the door shut in Harry's face, when Harry's hand shot out and stopped him.

"I'm not going to sell you anything... Mr. Vernon Dursley, I presume?" Harry quickly said, though he knew exactly who was standing in front of him. Years of dislike welled up in him, but he kept his face neutral, open and friendly.

"Yes, that's me. And who are you?"

Polite as ever, Harry thought, grinning inwardly. "My name is... Harold Malfoy. I'd like to speak to you and your wife, if she's home. It's a matter of life and death, actually, concerning your family."

Vernon Dursley eyed him distrustfully, but eventually stepped aside. "My wife is in the sitting room. Follow me."

Harry nodded gratefully and followed Vernon Dursley inside and into the sitting room, where Petunia Dursley was reading a magazine. On the ground, in front of the TV, was a blonde toddler the size of a baby whale – Dudley. "Petunia, dear... we have a visitor," Vernon said to get Petunia's attention. "This is Mr. Malfoy and he says he has to talk to us about something important concerning our family."

Harry knew he had played the family card right, because there was nothing Petunia and Vernon Dursley were more afraid – except maybe for losing their face in the neighbourhood – than that something bad might happen to their family, especially Dudley. "Please, sit down, Mr. Malfoy," Petunia ushered him to the couch. "What's so important that you have to come by without calling first?"

Of course, Petunia was still a bit miffed that he hadn't announced that he would come beforehand. She probably thought that she should have cleaned or prepared some tea, if she had known. "Mrs. Dursley, I won't disturb you for long, and that's why I will be completely frank with you. Your sister is in grave danger."

Both Dursleys paled at the mention of Lily. Harry had expected this and also the outraged outburst from his uncle. "You're... You're... one of _them_?"

Levelling his uncle with a cool gaze, he replied, "Yes, I am a wizard." Both winced at this term, but Harry didn't hesitate to continue. "I'm sure your sister has told you of the wizard Voldemort, with whom the Wizarding world is at war at the moment. Well, we are quite sure that Voldemort will target Lily Potter and her family, and probably very soon. In that case, if something happened to them, it might be that you will have to take in their son, Harry."

"Never," Petunia hissed, still pale, though Harry wasn't sure if it was still because of the fact that he was a wizard, or because of the fact that her sister really was in danger. He would probably never know. "I'd never raise... one of your lot."

"You probably won't have another choice," Harry said. "You might be his only living relative and taking him in would give him, and your whole family, a special protection from Voldemort. I won't go into details right now..."

"I sure hope you won't!" Vernon growled.

"But as you see, it might be imperative, not just for the boy, but also for you, to take him in," Harry continued, undeterred. He had lived long enough under this roof to know when to ignore his uncle. Lowering his eyes at his aunt, he then added with a dangerous voice, "And when you do, I'd suggest that you'd treat him like you'd treat your own son. You might never know, who's watching."

"Are you... are you threatening us?" Vernon spluttered, his face growing redder with each passing second.

Harry rose from his seat, as he answered mysteriously, "Maybe I am." Then, again directed at Petunia, he said, "I trust you judgement, Mrs. Dursley. When you have to decide between what is right and what is easy, I hope you make the right choice. Goodbye."

He left the Dursleys' house without another glance back, hoping that his baby self would never have to grow up here, and if he had to, that he would be treated much better than he himself had been treated by this family.

~*~

Once Harry was back at Hogwarts, he ignored the concerned questions and inquiring looks of his friends and once again returned his full attention to preparing for the final battle that would occur once they got back to their time. Defeated, Harry realized the night he returned from Surrey, that one week in this time would never be enough to get the Sorting Hat to spit out Gryffindor's sword (first he still had to talk to the Hat, which would still be difficult without alerting Dumbledore), then find Voldemort and kill him.

Fate had really kept him from fulfilling what he had sworn to do in this time. And only a miracle could help him now.

So, after a long and sleepless night, Harry decided that he had to prepare for the one thing he could do – defeating his own Voldemort the moment they got back. He would need someone to get Gryffindor's sword for him – Hermione maybe, so she would be out of a large part of the battle – and then he had to perform the ritual. Sounded easy enough in his head, but so many things could go wrong.

Throwing all of his energy into preparing for their return home and ignoring more or less successfully thoughts about his parents, days once again passed like minutes and much too soon it was the 30th of October.

They had spent the whole evening talking about the ritual they needed to perform with the potion. Hermione had made them repeat the spell _Reverto Tempus_ again and again, until even Draco lost his temper with Hermione and told her that it was enough. They then decided that it would probably be better to head to bed – they all needed a good night's sleep in preparation for the most-likely very long day and hard battle that awaited them at home, and that's why they made Harry promise to Occlude that night.

Harry did Occlude, but nightmares still slipped through. So, when he awoke to hearing a high pitched hiss in his head, Harry wasn't sure, if it was a nightmare or if some of Voldemort's thought had managed to get passed the Occlumency shield.

_"Tonight!"_


	39. The Lie

**A/N: Okay guys, you won't believe it! My muse has kissed me and he or she has been very motivated, because – please sit down and take a deep breath – _this story is finished!!! _After chapter 38 had been posted, I sat down writing chapter 39, then 40, 41 and then, the last chapter, 42 ! All in not even four days! I just couldn't stop writing! So, what I'm going to do now is to post a chapter every couple of days. I need to keep the suspense high, so that I can get more reviews, after all ^^. **

**So, then I want to thank you all for the reviews you have left until now! (Especially to Katara97 for pointing out a really stupid mistake from me, which I have corrected now.) Please leave more! :o)**

* * *

**Chapter 39: The Lie**

When Harry left his room that morning, he quickly realized that this day would be quite emotional, as a teary-eyed Molly Weasley was already sitting with Ron on the couch, apparently making Ron a bit uncomfortable with her fussing over him. However, according to the light grin on his best mate's face, it was also clearly visible that he was enjoying this.

As a matter of fact, both mother and son were so busy with each other that none of them either noticed Harry entering the common room or that the Weasleys' youngest child, currently lying in a crib near the fireplace, was wide awake and babbling to herself.

With a light smile on his face, Harry, still unnoticed, walked over to the crib and heaved Ginny out of it, settling her comfortably in his arms. Fortunately, after only a few days after her birth, she now recognized him and didn't start crying as soon as he was touching her. This had been quite annoying and also disheartening in the beginning. "Hey there, Gin," he mumbled gently. "Are you bored?"

Now that they heard him speak, Molly and Ron finally noticed him. "Good morning, Harry," Ron quickly recovered from the surprise of suddenly seeing his friend standing in the middle of the common room without having heard or seen him. "You're awake awfully early."

"Good morning, Ron. So are you... Good morning, Molly, it's nice to see you."

"Good morning, Harry dear. I'm sorry we didn't notice you."

"Ah," Harry waved her off with a grin on his face, "it's not that bad. But it's nice to see that at least one member of your family likes me. Don't you, Gin?" Ginny, however, showed no sign of understanding him, her brown eyes simply gazing up at him. With a sigh, Harry returned his attention to his best friend and Molly. "So, what are you doing up so early?"

Shrugging, Ron replied, "I'm just... I don't know... excited, I think... I just couldn't sleep any longer, and then, when I went down to the kitchens to get something to eat, I met mum with Ginny. She came back here with me for a cuppa. And what about you?"

"The same, I guess... and also weird dreams," Harry admitted.

Suddenly, Ron was alert. "You occluded, didn't you?"

"Yeah, of course," Harry reassured him. "I guess it's just nerves. After all, big day today." Though he still wasn't so sure about it. Was it really a dream, this one high-pitched hissed word? _Tonight!_ Was it his subconscious playing a trick on him, maybe trying to convince him to stay? A simple nightmare? It couldn't be something else, because Harry wasn't lying, when he said that he had occluded. His mind had been as strong as a fortress, when he had fallen asleep last night. Voldemort couldn't have gotten through.

"Yeah, big day... You want some waffles?" Ron motioned to a plate filled with a high stack of delicious looking waffles, but Harry's stomach churned at the sight of them.

"No thanks... I'm not hungry, yet. Maybe later."

"If there are still any left later," Ron replied grinning, as he pierced the waffle on the top with his fork and pulled it onto his plate.

Chuckling, Harry settled down on the armchair, still with Ginny in his arms, only that her eyes were closed by now and she looked to be close to sleep. "I'm sure the house-elves would love to prepare some more for me."

"Don't let Hermione hear you say that."

"Don't let me hear Harry say what?"

Harry and Ron turned around startled, when they heard Hermione's voice. She was standing fully dressed in the doorway to Draco's room with Draco standing right behind her. She was positively glowering at them.

"Nothing," Harry quickly reassured her, though he winced under her fierce stare. But he was proud of himself. He hadn't given in! And then, to quickly avert the attention from the current topic, he remarked, "You're up early."

"As are you two. Oh, and good morning of course, Molly," Hermione greeted her with a bright smile, before she returned her attention again to Harry and Ron. "Have you two packed already?"

"Packed?" Ron asked confused. "First of all, we won't leave until sundown, as you've told us countless of times, seeing as the spell only works at the exact moment when the sun has disappeared behind the horizon, and second, what do you expect us to pack? We can't go back right into battle carrying heavy trunks and backpacks."

"Of course not," Hermione said in her no-nonsense voice, as she stepped further into the common room. "But we can pack other things. I, for one, have added several pockets to the insides of the robes I'm going to wear tonight, for example for some potions we could use in the fight. What are you two going to wear, anyway?"

Ron stared at Hermione with wide eyes, as he motioned at his current attire – a pair of black Muggle jeans and a blue jumper. Hermione frowned at him, causing Ron to ask, "What's wrong with this? I mean, of course it's gonna be cold outside and I'll wear a jacket over it, but it's comfortable and I like it. I don't want to go into battle wearing something I don't feel good in. I mean, I might die in these clothes."

Hermione's eyes flashed dangerously. "Don't even joke about something like this, Ron. And... there's nothing wrong with your clothes, per se... It's just a little unprotected. Draco has shown me a couple of spells you can use on clothes to make them more resistant against magic. So that they act almost like a shield."

"Yeah," Harry added, "we've learned them in one of our thousand Auror classes. Dead useful against some curses and jinxes, but we all know that nothing can stop the Unforgivables."

"And what, Harry, are you going to wear?" Hermione wanted to know.

Harry, too, looked down at the clothes he was wearing. Black jeans, just like Ron, and one of the many black T-shirts he possessed. However, unlike Ron, who was wearing dirty trainers, Harry had put on his old dragon hide boots. Still, even while Hermione was scrutinizing him, Harry thought that his outfit didn't look complete. Something was still missing, and then he suddenly realized what it was. It was hanging in the back of his closet, having been worn only a handful of times since he had bought it shortly after their arrival in this time. "I'm going to wear this, enhanced with spells of course, and my leather coat."

"Sounds cool, mate," Ron only said. "Going for the badass look."

Hermione's eyes narrowed and Harry exchanged an amused glance with Draco, as Hermione descended on Ron with a tirade about how 'looking cool' wouldn't save your life in a battle and that practicality was always much more preferred in most situations to looking good or, as he had put it, as a badass.

~*~

Eventually Molly had managed to break up the fight between Ron and Hermione and had invited the whole group for breakfast in their family's sitting room at the castle. She had even hinted that there might be more guests than just the Weasley family, and indeed, when they arrived at the room, everyone who knew where, or better, when they really came from, was already sitting at a long table laden with all kinds of food one could eat for breakfast – Arthur Weasley, whom Molly quickly joined upon entering, Severus and Clara, Albus and even Remus had shown up. Much to his surprise, he also saw Narcissa Malfoy at the table, who even rose to greet Draco with a concerned look on her face and hugging him tightly. Harry quickly averted his gaze from this scene, but he was happy that Narcissa finally seemed to believe that the grown-up Draco really was her son.

The Weasley children, so Arthur explained, were in the Great Hall, having breakfast with their classmates – and babysitting Percy, Fred and George – and after that wanted to go outside and soak up the last rays of the sun.

The only persons missing were his parents, Harry thought with a pang. He wondered what they were dong at the moment, and most importantly, how they were doing. Somewhere, deep inside, Harry had hoped that they would at least write him a letter or two, but he had heard nothing of them. Nothing at all.

Breakfast quickly turned into lunch and then it was suddenly teatime. The Weasley kids had come for a short time to say their own goodbyes in the afternoon, before they had gone back outside, but Harry thought that it had been nice to see them one more time.

About two hours before the sun was about to set, the time travellers rose from their seats and another round of teary goodbyes began. Harry remembered many hugs and kind words, good-luck wishes and that he had to make many promise to be careful. However, the only two conversations he actually remembered were the short ones he had with Severus and Albus.

"I hope for you that Voldemort will soon be defeated," he told him. "And that your life as spy will be over by then."

"I don't think it will be long, anymore," Severus answered cryptically. "Albus already has a plan."

"That's good to hear," Harry said, relieved, though he was also curious about the plan Dumbledore might have. Still, it wasn't his place anymore – nor has it ever been – to worry about this time. He trusted Dumbledore and that he would do the right thing. "Farewell, Severus."

"You too, Harry. And I wish you good luck in the coming battle. I'm sure you'll need it."

"Thank you." Harry then turned to Albus, who had just finished his goodbyes to a sniffling Hermione. "Albus... I wanted to thank you. For everything you've done for us in this time."

"No need to thank me, Harry. Though, if you'd allow me to thank you? Without your presence in this time, some things that needed changing would have never been changed..."

"But some things were changed that shouldn't have been changed," Harry muttered, remembering the attack on Hogsmeade exactly one year ago.

"You did good things here, Harry," Dumbledore said imploringly, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezing it. "Never doubt that. And you will continue to do good things in your own time."

"I hope I will."

"Of course you will," Albus said with a gentle voice. "May I say how proud I am of you?"

"You just did," Harry mumbled, feeling slightly embarrassed.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Indeed I did. And I _am_ proud of you. I'm sure that there are hundreds of things, hundreds of words I could give you to take along with you back to your home, but sometimes, yes, sometimes it's better to say nothing at all. However, there is one promise I want to make to you. Harry, I promise you here and now that you don't need to worry about the Voldemort of this time. I have a plan and he _will_ be taken care of soon, very soon."

Some of the tension he had been feeling the whole morning, week, maybe even the whole year, lifted from his shoulders. This was just what he had needed to hear. "Thank you, Albus."

"You're welcome, Harry... Now, you have to excuse an old man. I have to go back to my office, to take care of some urgent things. And you and your friends should return to your rooms, get ready and then go to the Astronomy Tower to perform the ritual. I'll make sure that you won't be disturbed."

"Again, I can only say thank you."

"And again I can only say that there's no need. Goodbye, Harry."

"Goodbye, Albus." Harry stretched out his hand, which Dumbledore took, and they shook hands once with a firm grip. Then, Dumbledore turned around and swept out of the room, with Harry watching his retreat.

After one last round of hugs from Molly, the time travellers returned to their common room. They gathered small items they wanted to take with them, mementos from their time here. Harry had just packed the gifts he had received from his parents into his backpack and then gazed at the _Thunderbolt_ standing in the corner of this bedroom with a wistful look on his face, knowing that he couldn't take this broomstick with him. This was one fine broom.

_Ah, what the hell!_

Harry grabbed the broom and put it next to his backpack on his bed. Now that he had everything, he put on the black leather duster, inhaling the scent of the leather, and put some protection spells on it. As he had said this morning, they wouldn't help against the Unforgivables, but it was better than nothing.

Then he slung the backpack over his shoulders and grabbed the broom, before allowing himself to look around the room one last time. It had been his sanctuary this whole past year, fifteen months, and now he would have to leave it. "Goodbye," he whispered to the room and finally walked through the door into the common room. Hermione and Draco were already waiting for him, both having backpacks on their backs, too, and Harry couldn't suppress the grin, when he saw the _Thunderbolt_ in Draco's hand.

"Oh no, not you, too!" Hermione groaned. "It's just a broom."

"It's not just a broom," Harry quickly argued, followed by Draco, who added, "This is a damn fine broom."

"Well, I don't see them getting through the battle unscathed, but it's your decision," Hermione said haughtily, but Harry could see the grin that was tugging at her lips.

"Where's Ron?" Harry asked, when he noticed that the door to his best mate's former room was standing wide open but that Ron was nowhere to be seen.

"He's gone ahead, to get the object we need for the spell. He's going to meet us on the Astronomy Tower," Hermione explained. "But now that you're here, we can go, too."

"Lead the way," Harry bowed slightly, allowing Hermione to walk first, followed by Draco and then, he was the last to leave the room. One last time, he let his gaze sweep over it, before he sighed and closed the portrait.

Their trek to the Astronomy Tower was a short one spent in silence. They didn't feel like talking and even didn't say anything as Ron was already waiting for them there – backpack slung over his shoulders, _Thunderbolt_ in one hand and a Beater's Bat in the other hand.

"What's this doing here?" Hermione asked almost exasperated, probably thinking that Ron wanted to bring another memento from this time.

Ron grinned widely. "This, my dear Hermione, is going to be our Portkey to our time. I just thought, we should take something that we can actually use, once we're back. I'm sure there are quite a few Death Eaters who I'd like to hit with this bat."

Shaking her head and mumbling something that sounded remarkably like "Boys" under her breath, she took a small bottle filled with a green and slimy looking potion. Harry hadn't seen the result before, but now that he saw it, he had a hard time to believe that this potion was their ticket home. After all, many of his potions during his career at Hogwarts had looked exactly like this and those had been _D_'s – when Snape had been kind enough to assign a _D_.

Then, Hermione pulled a needle out of her pocket and opened the stopper from the bottle. "Okay, now I need a drop of blood from each of you, so that the potion recognizes you. Once we have sprinkled the potion on the bat, it will only activate if all four of us touch it and speak the spell at the same time."

"We _know_, Hermione," Ron was still grinning. "You've told us that about a thousand times!"

"One more time would never hurt. And now, your blood, Ron."

Without waiting for him to offer it, Hermione took his hand and picked his finger. A drop of blood welled up to Ron's shouts of 'Bloody hell, woman!' and fell straight into the bottle. After Ron, Harry decided to offer his finger voluntarily and watched as first a drop of his own blood, and then of Draco's and at last Hermione's fell into the potions. She again put the stopper on the bottle and shook it strongly three times.

The potion was swirling for a moment, but once it stopped, Harry could see that it had changed. It was now of a silvery-purple colour, looking much more like an acceptable potion than before. It was fascinating to watch, how Hermione sprinkled the potion evenly on the bat, which glowed in the potion's colour once, as soon as the whole bottle was empty.

"Okay... now we just have to wait for the sun to set."

Harry nodded grimly, his eyes turning to the sunset, as he suddenly remembered something. "Hermione, I almost forgot..."

"What is it, Harry?... Harry?"

But Harry wasn't listening anymore, as he suddenly spotted something at the horizon, flying up to them with great speed. "Is that an owl?" he asked confused.

"Yes it is," Hermione answered, just as dumbfounded.

And then, just five seconds later, the owl landed on the railing of the Astronomy Tower directly next to Harry, offering its leg. A small, white piece of paper was attached to the leg and Harry could read the words _To Harry Potter, Astronomy Tower, Hogwarts_ in the handwriting of... "It's from my mum."

"Really? What does she write?" Ron asked.

Harry quickly untied the letter and the owl took flight again. Then, just as quickly, he unfolded it and stared only at four words.

_I am really sorry._

"What does that mean?" Ron wanted to know.

"I have no idea," Harry muttered, but somehow, a sense of foreboding, something which he had ignored the whole day, ever since he had woken up to that one, fateful word ringing in his head, returned at full force. Trying to push it again from his mind, Harry only wanted to be happy that his mother had thought of him at this critical moment and turned back to Hermione. "Err, what I wanted to say... I need to ask you a favour. You need to do something once we're back."

"What is it?"

"As soon as we're back, I need you to Apparate to Hogwarts and get Gryffindor's Sword for me. I..." he swallowed hard. "I'd feel a lot better fighting Voldemort, if I had the sword. It has already helped me once against him and it can give me the edge I need to win."

"Of course, Harry..." Hermione promised.

When Harry said this, he thought he could see a grateful look in Draco's eyes. He nodded at him almost imperceptibly. With this task, Hermione would be far away from the battle, at least for a while.

"Okay," Hermione finally said. "Boys, put your hands on the bat and get ready to say the spell. We only have two minutes left."

They all did as they were told, standing in a circle around the bat, each of them grabbing it tightly with grim determination. Harry exchanged tense look with each of his friends – in two minutes, they would be back home, right in the middle of a battle that would decide the fate of their world.

And yet, something was nagging at him. Something had been set free in his mind with the arrival of the note from his mother.

_I am really sorry._

Why did his mother feel the need to apologize to him? What had she done, what had plagued her mind so much that she had needed to send him this note right before they left? He couldn't imagine anything that warranted this apology.

Suddenly, Harry's insides froze. _No! That couldn't be!_

And yet, it made sense.

_He will be taken care of soon, very soon._

And then, the one word that had woken him this morning. _Tonight!_ It hadn't been a dream. It had been Voldemort's voice, it had been _him_! Somehow, his subconscious must have allowed that one word to slip through his shield, alerting him to the danger. Alerting him that Voldemort was planning something and that it would happen tonight. And Harry could only imagine one thing that Voldemort could have planned for this night!

And Dumbledore had known this.

Harry let go off the bat, as he stumbled a step backwards. He didn't hear the shouts of confusion from his friends, as he clenched his fists tightly. _That manipulative son of_... Harry didn't finish the thought, seeing red.

_It has all been a plan! They have changed! They have bloody changed! And it has all been a plan!_

Shaking his head, Harry tried to think clearly. He had to find out what to do now, because one thing was sure, he couldn't go back to his own time now! If they really had changed... _Of course they have! _Harry had told his parents what would happen if they changed, when they had changed, and they had still done it.

Only this could make his mother send this note. Only this... Apologizing for lying to him, for doing this to him, for doing this to his younger self.

But he shouldn't jump to conclusions. He should first make sure that he was interpreting the signs correctly.

Suddenly, a sharp pain in his jaw made him whirl around, and at that moment he saw Ron standing in front of him, nursing his fist. "Are you back with us, mate?" he asked angrily. "Hurry and get your hand back on the bat. We only have one more minute!"

Shaking his head, Harry took another step back. "I can't... I have to... I have to..."

"What you have to do, Potter, is get your bloody arse back here so that we can go home," Draco snarled.

"They've changed!" Harry suddenly exploded. "They've changed the Secret Keeper!"

"What?" Hermione asked, completely taken aback. "What makes you think that?"

Harry pulled the crumbled note out of his pocket. "This... This and something Dumbledore _and_ Snape told me tonight! They told me that Voldemort will be taken care of very soon. And I'll give you all the gold in my vault if this _very soon_ isn't tonight! I don't know how they want to do it, if they want it to happen like it did in our time, but somehow Dumbledore has talked my parents into being bait!"

"Harry," Hermione was beginning to sound desperate. The sun was sinking lower at the horizon with each passing second. "Even if it is so, Dumbledore has a plan and there's nothing you can do. Maybe he wants to ambush Voldemort in Godric's Hollow to kill him."

"He can't!" Harry yelled, his emotions getting the best of him. "Dumbledore can't. Because the only person who can kill Voldemort is standing right in front of you!"

"Err, mate... don't yell at me, but what makes you so sure that it's you. I mean, okay, many people expect you to be the one, but that doesn't mean that you're the only one..."

Harry saw out of the corner of his eyes, how Hermione's eyes turned wide. She had finally, after years, put one and one together. Smart girl. "The Prophecy," she mumbled. "You know what it says."

Harry nodded grimly, as he recited the Prophecy from memory, "_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies _… _and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not _… _and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives _… _the one with the power to vanquish the Dark __Lord__ will be born as the seventh month dies _…"

"How long?" she muttered, her voice full of shock and compassion. "How long have you known?"

"Dumbledore told me directly after... the incident... at the Ministry... I've destroyed a good part of his office during that conversation."

"He didn't!" Hermione gasped. "Not directly after... And... that's six years, Harry! Why have you never told us?"

Harry shrugged, suddenly not remembering a single reason for not telling them. But it didn't matter now, anyway. They finally knew. And he didn't have much more time to explain. He somehow needed to get to Godric's Hollow as quickly as possible. If he just remembered, where his parents were living there.

_Bloody Fidelius Charm!_

"Guys... the sun..." Ron mumbled, disturbing the silence that had fallen after Hermione's question. And indeed, just at this moment, the last rays of the sun disappeared behind the horizon. Hermione looked at the bat that everyone except for Harry were still holding onto, back to the sun, to the bat and then at Harry, before she resolutely let go of the bat. "Hermione, what are you doing?"

"_We_," she said with a determined look around the whole group, "are going to save Harry's family."

The moment Hermione had uttered those words, Harry felt incredibly grateful towards her. And then, as Ron wrenched the bat out of Draco's hand, and simply said, "Okay, let's go," followed by a somewhat reluctant sounding "Alright, I'm in... Let's show this bastard not to mess with us," from Draco, another huge weight lift from his shoulder and his own determination set it. His friends were standing behind him and no one was going to stop him now.

_Voldemort is going down!_


	40. Godric's Hollow

**A/N: And here it is! hapter 40! After this chapter only two more to go (I think I'll upload them on Wednesday and next Saturday). But first I'll answer some of your questions: **

**_the_grey_mage_: Yes, I'm still a fan of Harry Potter, but I don't know when I will write my next Harry Potter fanfic, seeing as I still have other projects in other fandoms at the moment. But yes, I will keep writing in general. **

**_EelvenGirl _and _Allyieh:_ You two are the only ones who caught the reference at the end of the last chapter! I just love AVPM and I can't wait until the next part comes out in July!**

**_Mona:_ Ich hoffe, dein Englisch reicht dann aus, um auch die restlichen Kapitel einigermaßen auf englisch zu verstehen, denn ich habe zwar jemanden, der das übersetzen soll, aber bisher ist da leider noch nicht wirklich was passiert... aber wenn du spezielle Verständnisfragen hast, schick mir einfach ne pm und ich versuche dir dann zu helfen! :)**

**But now, I really don't want to keep you wait any longer! Don't forget to leave a short comment - just click on the nice review button at the end of the page! Thanks a lot!**

* * *

**Chapter 40: Godric's Hollow**

"So, where to?" Ron asked, his eyes flashing in determination, as Harry was leading them down the stairs of the Astronomy Tower. They had all left their backpacks and their brooms on top of the tower, so that it wouldn't get in their way on their current mission. Harry only hoped that their things would still be there, once they returned.

"Sirius," Harry replied at once. "He isn't the Secret Keeper, but I'm sure that he can still tell us where my parents are."

They reached the door to the hall, but when Harry turned the knob and wanted to push it open, it didn't budge. Cursing, Harry pulled out his wand and muttered _"Alohomora!"_ before trying again. Still, the door didn't move an inch. "Damn!"

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked confused.

"The door's locked. Dumbledore told me that he'd make sure that we wouldn't be disturbed. I guess this is his way of doing so."

Draco snorted. "More likely to keep us away from what's going to happen tonight, in case we figured him out. I certainly wouldn't put it past him."

"For whatever reason he's locked the door, fact is, we can't get out," Harry announced, giving the door one good kick, but hurting himself more than he hurt the door. "We're stuck on top of the tower... Fuck!"

Surprisingly, it was Ron who cleared his throat, as he was looking at them with an amused look on his face. "Well, we can't get out through the door, but this doesn't mean that we can't leave the tower. Or have you already forgotten that we've got three perfectly fine _Thunderbolts_ upstair?"

Harry slapped his forehead. "Of course!" Brushing past his friends, he ran back up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. He could hear his friends' footsteps behind him, but didn't look back, as he grabbed his broom and jumped over the rail. Hermione's scream echoed behind him, but Harry had everything under control, as he swung his leg over the broom in mid-fall and pulled it up. As he looked over his shoulder he saw that Ron was already following him, while Draco was urging Hermione to climb on the broom behind them. Well, he couldn't wait for them.

At first, Harry thought that he would have to land, but fortunately the great doors to the Entrance Hall were standing wide open. So, probably breaking all the rules, he urged his broom forward and sped through the Entrance Hall – startling some students, who were lingering there – and along several corridors until he pulled the broom to a skidding halt directly in front of the portrait that led to Sirius' quarters.

"I solemnly swear I'm up to no good," Harry panted, saying the first thing that came to his mind, hoping that this would unlock the portrait. A great sigh of relief escaped his lungs, as the portrait swung open, just as Ron stopped behind him

"I'm with you, mate," Ron said supportively.

Harry nodded gratefully, before striding into the room. Sirius, who apparently hadn't noticed the opening of the portrait, looked up startled from the essays he was marking at his desk, when he heard the heavy footsteps. Alarmed, he struggled to get his wand out of his pocket, but Harry was faster, as he grabbed Sirius at the collar of his shirt and pushed him forcefully against the wall next to the desk.

"What the...?" Sirius choked, but Harry ignored this.

"Who's the Secret Keeper?" Sirius' eyes widened and Harry realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach that he had been right. They had changed. "Is it Wormtail?"

"How did you find out?" Sirius asked confused, straining against the tight hold Harry had on him, but ceased his struggles, when he found Ron's wand pointed at him. However, when Sirius saw that Harry wasn't going to answer, he just said, "Making Peter Secret Keeper was one of my finer ideas, if I may say so. So now you'll never find out where Lily and James are."

"I may not," Harry hissed, finally releasing Sirius. "But Voldemort has. Peter Pettigrew is a Death Eater!"

"What?" Sirius choked, shocked. Shaking his head, he mumbled, "No... Peter isn't a Death Eater. We would have known. He's our friend. It's you, who's the Death Eater."

"Still in denial," Harry muttered, as Hermione and Draco also finally arrived. "Even after everything that James and Lily have said to you, you still believe this? Why?"

"Because," Sirius said hoarsely, looking directly into Harry's eyes. "My truth is much more easier to bear. Accepting what Lily and James have said, that you _are_ my godson, is too hard. My godson should never be so battle hardened as you are."

Harry felt his face soften, as he looked at Sirius. His father had once said the same thing and yet he had accepted Harry for who he was. "I know that your truth might be much easier to accept, but I can't change who I am. I am Harry James Potter, your godson. Me and my friends, Ron Weasley, second youngest of Molly and Arthur, Hermione Granger, a Muggle-born witch, and... Draco Malfoy, are from the future. We all had too experience too much in the last few years and it was those years that made us into what we are now. But... if you help us, I can change that. I can make it that your godson never has to become like me."

There were tears in Sirius eyes, as he looked at Harry, still completely shell-shocked. "How?"

"As I said before, Peter Pettigrew is a Death Eater. He has worked for Voldemort for some time by now. I know you suspected a spy in the order, and it was him. He has told Voldemort, where my parents are and tonight, Voldemort will attack them and kill them."

"No... it can't be..." Sirius was still shaking his head lightly from one side to the other, as he mumbled, "Peter has been seeing his sick mother so often in the last few months... We were worried about him... He's become distant, withdrawn... But we thought it was because of his mother..."

"Whenever he was gone, he was with Voldemort... His mother has never been sick."

"How do you know?"

Grinning lightly, Harry replied, "We're from the future... that's how we know some things. For example the password to your room, or should I better say the Marauder's Map. It's been in my possession since my third year at Hogwarts. But unfortunately, we don't have time to talk about this now. But we'll have some time to catch up later. We have to know where my parents are hiding."

"I'm not the Secret Keeper... I can't tell you..." Harry's face fell at Sirius words. He was quickly growing desperate. They didn't have much time! But there was a contradictive grin on Sirius' face, as he then continued, "But Peter has given me a note telling me where they live."

A huge grateful and relieved smile spread over Harry's face, as Sirius pulled a drawer from his desk open and took out a small piece of parchment. He hesitated only a split second, before swallowing hard and giving it to Harry. "Please, save my friends."

Harry took the note and unfolded it.

_James, Lily and Harry Potter live at 7, Godric's Lane, Godric's Hollow._

Immediately the fog on Harry's mind lifted, and he quickly handed the note to his friends, so that they could memorize it as well, before Ron returned it to him and Harry gave it back to Sirius. "I promise, I will. But there's also something you need to do. The Order needs to be alerted. Wormtail is, as far as I know, the only Death Eater in the Order, so you should be able to trust everyone else. Show them this note and then come to Godric's Hollow. I don't know if, in this time, Voldemort will come alone or if he will bring his followers."

"Alright... and Harry? Please, be careful."

"I will."

Harry gave Sirius one last reassuring smile, before he grabbed his broom and ushered his friends out of his room, with Sirius close on their heels. But while Sirius ran left at one corner towards the Entrance Hall, Harry turned right, much to his friends' confusion.

"Aren't we leaving the grounds, too?" Ron asked, who, despite being in good shape, could barely keep up with Harry's determined pace.

Harry shook his head, as they rounded another corner and then looked straight ahead, towards the Gargoyle that was guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office. "Not yet. There's something else I need first. _Marshmallows_."

Somehow, Harry had expected the password to have been changed to deny them entrance, but he was clearly relieved that it wasn't as the Gargoyle jumped aside to allow Harry to ascend the staircase. The wooden door to Dumbledore's office was, as usual, unlocked and the office itself deserted. In a way, Harry was glad that he didn't have to face Dumbledore now – more discussions, especially if what he was going to do was the right thing, would only waste more time they didn't have. The sky outside had already grown dark and every minute mattered.

"What are we doing here?" Hermione wanted to know, panting and trying to catch her breath, looking around the office. It was obvious that she didn't feel well being in this office without the presence of the Headmaster. As a matter of fact, they were breaking and entering, but there was just one thing Harry wanted and needed.

So, instead of answering her, Harry strode up to the shelf where the Sorting Hat was lying, grabbed it and pushed it down on his head. _"I need the sword,"_ Harry demanded in his thoughts without any preamble and straight to the point.

_"Ah, Mr. Potter... I've been wanting to look into your head for a long time."_

_"Spare me this. I need Gryffindor's Sword."_

The Hat didn't say anything for a long moment and Harry almost felt it sifting through his thoughts and memories. He had to resist the urge to throw his Occlumency shields up, knowing that the Hat would probably first give him the sword, once he deemed him worthy of it.

_"Interesting... Very interesting indeed. A brave lion and yet, a snake too. I imagine my other self had a few difficulties sorting you. Ah yes, and you chose Gryffindor. Oh, and what's this? I had thought this ritual was long lost."_

Harry couldn't believe it. The Hat knew of the ritual? And then again, Harry realized, why shouldn't the Hat know it? It had been Gryffindor's Hat after all. _"Please,"_ Harry pleaded, once again feeling that time was running out. _"I need the sword for the ritual. This is the only way to kill Voldemort."_

_"And why are you so sure that it's your place to fight him in this time? Shouldn't your other self be given the responsibility, just as you had been given the responsibility for the Dark Lord in your own time?"_

_"Because... I want this time to have a better future."_

_"But do you know what will happen, when you have absorbed the dark magic of two Dark Lords? You have read that Godric barely survived the Dark of one Dark Lord and that he chose to take his life after all. Maybe with only having absorbed the dark magic of one Dark Lord, you might continue to live a happy life, but having done this twice, your life will be forfeit. Are you really willing to sacrifice your life for this time?"_

Harry didn't even hesitate to announce, _"Yes!"_

_"Alright... may the strength of the bravest Founder be with you, Harry Potter." _

The Hat fell silent, and suddenly a sharp pain shot through his head, making him see stars for a moment, as something heavy collided with his skull. Harry pulled off the Hat and pulled Gryffindor's Sword, along with its very own leather sheath, out of it.

"Thank you," he breathed, reverently regarding the rubies in the handle.

Then, he quickly fastened the sheath around his breast and looked up at his friends, who were looking at him dumbfounded, probably wondering what had taken him so long to convince the Hat. After all, they hadn't been able to hear a word of their conversation – fortunately.

"Okay, _now_ we can go to Godric's Hollow. Let's take the brooms again until we've passed the wards and then Apparate," he ordered. "And let's hope that we're not too late."

His friends nodded at him and together they quickly hurried down the spiral staircase and mounted their brooms, once they were again in the hall. Once again, students jumped aside, both surprised and startled, as they sped through the school and eventually out of the doors and across the grounds. Finally, when Harry felt that they had passed the wards, he landed, only waiting long enough for the other two brooms (Hermione was once again seated behind Draco on his broom), before he whirled around on the spot and Apparated, the address firmly in his mind.

A green light welcomed them and Harry nearly felt his heart stop, as he saw the gigantic green glowing skull hovering over his parents' house. Their front door was blasted open. They were too late! Hermione gasped behind him, and he ordered, "Stay here. Watch out for any Death Eaters that might come."

"Oh, but we already are here," said a smooth voice.

Draco was the quickest to pull out his wand to direct it at the owner of the voice. Pale blond hair fell down from under the hood and even behind the white mask, Harry could see Lucius Malfoy's cold grey eyes. Behind him, several more hooded and cloaked figures in masks came out of the darkness. "Hurry, Potter!" Draco snarled, never once removing his eyes from his father. "We'll keep them at bay."

Harry only nodded once, before he, too, pulled out his wand and ran through the open door. The house was dark and Harry was already fearing the worst, until he heard a familiar voice yell, "Lily, take Harry and go! Run! I'll hold him off!"

Hurried footsteps, followed by high-pitched laughter rang through the house and Harry saw a red light flare up in the sitting room. Moving quickly, but quietly, into the room, his heart soared when he saw his father, alive, facing Voldemort. His mother was nowhere to be seen, so he guessed that she had followed his father's order and run.

None of them had spotted him yet, so, when Voldemort raised his hand almost in slow-motion, Harry was quicker and jabbed his wand in the direction of Voldemort's back. A jet of blue light hit Voldemort square in the back, causing him to cry out in surprise. It had just been a simple stinging jinx, just enough to get Voldemort's attention and giving James the chance to flee.

"Harry!" James exclaimed surprised. "I thought you were long gone."

"There was a slight change of plans," Harry said shortly. "You can thank mum for that. And now, go to her and flee! I'll take care of Voldemort."

James looked back and forth between them for a seemingly endless moment, before he muttered "Good luck" and was off to find his wife.

Harry gazed at Voldemort. Finally alone.

"Good evening, Harry. It's nice to see you again," Voldemort hissed. "Especially knowing now, who you really are..."

"I'd like to say the same to you, but unfortunately, I had other plans for tonight, which you ruined," Harry quipped.

"Yes..." Still hissing, Voldemort began to circle Harry, his red eyes regarding him quite curiously from head to toe. "The return to your own time. I can't say I'm sorry you missed that. After all, this gives me the opportunity to take care of both of you... you and your younger self. I daresay, it was me who sent you away with the spell _Proferre Tempus_?"

"Yeah. You were too scared to fight me man-to-man, so you sent me away, hoping that it was for good," Harry taunted him. "But that's just like you... Rather attacking helpless little children instead of fighting someone your own size. However, do you want to know, where it got you? What would have happened to you tonight, if I hadn't turned up tonight?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

Harry smirked. "That little boy upstairs would have defeated you. He would have ripped you from your body, forcing you to exist as nothing more as a wraith, a ghost of your former self, for many years."

"You're lying!" Voldemort growled. "I sent you to the past, so I've returned."

"Yes, you did," Harry admitted. "But it's taken you years... and before it could happen, the same little boy stopped you again and again and again. And now, in the end, the little boy will stop you again. Only this time, for good." Still smirking, Harry pulled the sword out of its sheath. "Are you ready to die, Tom?"

"I can't die," Voldemort said confidently. "I've become so powerful with the dark magic that the very same dark magic has become me! You can't kill me, Harry!"

"Oh, believe me, I can!"

With a yell, Harry lunged forward with the sword, already reciting the Gaelic words of the ritual in his head. However, before Harry could reach Voldemort, a jet of green light sped towards him. Harry only barely managed to dodge by letting himself fall to the ground. He quickly rolled to the side and hid behind an armchair, as another green light followed suit. The armchair exploded and Harry had to jump forward, firing off a spell on his own, to escape.

Voldemort managed to block the spell, but by the time he had done this, Harry had once again hidden. This time in the hallway, just on the other side of the door. The sword was lying heavily in his hand, as Harry strained his ears to listen to Voldemort's footsteps. They were quiet, as they slowly crossed the sitting room and when they got closer, Harry counted to three under his breath, before he jumped out of his hiding place again, his wand directed at the spot where he suspected Voldemort to be. "Sectumsempra!"

A pained, hissing noise alerted him to the fact that he must have hit his target, but Harry was still moving quickly, jumping behind the couch, as, with an enraged yell, a red light hit the wall directly above him. It seemed that, with having been injured, Voldemort wanted to let him suffer first, before he killed him. Well, that just gave Harry the time he needed to get close enough to Voldemort.

"Hiding again, Harry?" the Dark Lord tsk'ed. "Is this the only thing you can do? My other self must be really pathetic, if he's defeated by a coward like you."

"Your other self his hiding behind his Death Eaters, most of the time," Harry challenged, as he got up and jumped over the couch to face Voldemort again like a man. And he was a man on a mission. "But I'm no coward and I can show you that I can do other things much better than hiding."

"Which would be?"

Slashing with his wand through the air, Harry yelled, "Expelliarmus!" Voldemort quickly erected a shield to block the spell, but he didn't notice how Harry's left hand, the hand holding the sword at the moment, gave a small wave and the bookshelf standing directly next to Voldemort toppled over. However, the books that were falling out of the shelf alerted Voldemort to the falling shelf and he managed to evade the heavy wood just in time before it buried him.

"Now," Voldemort hissed, his lips curling into a smirk, "that looks much more promising."

With a flick of his wrist, another jet of red light shot from Voldemort's wand, which Harry just dodged barely. But another one hit him like a heavy punch in the shoulder, causing Harry to cry out it pain and whirl around. He hit a wall and could just in time erect a shield which, luckily, absorbed the third spell Voldemort had sent at him.

Harry allowed himself a short breath of relief that it hadn't been an Unforgivable, before he went into the offensive, casting spell after spell and throwing curses and jinxes at Voldemort, the whole time trying to keep him on the defensive and getting close to him. Eventually, Harry abandoned using his wand, having gotten tired of getting the wand movements right in this duel, and only cast spells wandlessly, which, while taking more concentration, was a lot quicker.

And finally, after what seemed like endless hours, Harry finally had Voldemort where he wanted him, pressed up against a wall, while Harry was advancing on him. But he had cheered too soon, as suddenly, Voldemort jerked his wand up and with a loud explosion, a large part of the ceiling came down on them.

Harry coughed and spluttered, his eyes burning and hurting because of the dust that had rained down on them and managed to settle behind his contact lenses. Magical or not, with this onslaught of dust and debris, even they couldn't keep the dust from entering his eyes. Cursing, his eyes watering, Harry had to decide now. Bearing the pain and being somewhat able to see what was going on, or discarding the contacts and finishing the battle nearly blind.

Through the tears streaming down his eyes, Harry almost didn't see the green light flying right at him. _That's it_... Harry only thought in shock, before he was hurled to the ground in the hallway. "Harry, are you okay?" James had suddenly appeared on top of him, having been the one who had pulled him out of the way of the spell and to the ground.

"'m fine," he muttered, blinking furiously and eventually deciding that he pain wasn't worth it. With a wave of his hand, he banished the contact lenses from his eyes, which made his sight a lot blurrier, but at least it hurt a lot less. Squinting at his father, he asked, "What are you doing here? Where's mum?"

"She's gone to Hogwarts with Hermione," James quickly replied. Upon Harry's worried look, he explained hurriedly, "Hermione has a sprained ankle and I thought it'd be safer for both of them to return to the castle. And besides, Sirius has arrived with the Order. They're fighting the Death Eaters outside and the Death Eaters are fleeing already."

"Good," Harry whispered. "Then I have to finish this now. Cover for me?"

"I've got your back, son." James and Harry, Father and Son, exchanged one long look, before James hurried straight back into the sitting room, while Harry decided to go the other way around and attack Voldemort from behind.

While he was sneaking through the hallway, Harry tried to listen to the conversation that was most-likely going on in the sitting room now. He could only hear Voldemort's amused question, "Did I hit him?", followed by James' cry of _Stupefy!_

_Yes, let him believe I'm gone..._

Gripping the sword tightly in his right hand, Harry crept quietly through the second entrance into the sitting room. Voldemort's back was to him, as he was taunting and goading James. His father, fortunately, didn't react to Voldemort's words, but Harry could swear through his blurred gaze that James' eyes flashed towards him for a split second.

Still, this split second was long enough for Voldemort to notice, and he began to turn around quickly. Seizing his chance, Harry lunged forward and, just as Voldemort had turned around completely, buried the sword in the Dark Lord's chest. Voldemort stared down at the sword protruding from his chest with a shocked look on his face and Harry allowed a small, victorious smirk cross over his face, before he began to whisper the incantation for the ritual.

The Gaelic rolled easily off his tongue, as he had practiced the incantation thousands of times. A wind began to pick up around him and as he repeated it seven times, just as it had been described in the book, the wind became stronger with each time he did this. It was a dark twister, with both him and Voldemort being in the eye of it. Voldemort tried to wrench his body off the sword, but didn't succeed. The strong wind kept him firmly impaled on the sword.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry noticed James backing away from the slowly but surely growing storm and eventually leaving the room, and hopefully, also the house, because Harry wasn't sure if the house would survive this.

Debris and destroyed furniture began to fly around them, his hair whipping around his face, when Harry had finished the incantation the sixth time and he tried to prepare himself for what would happen, when he had finished it this one final time.

One more time he said the incantation, when suddenly, after he had uttered the last word, his scar exploded in pain. He cried out, but he wasn't the only one, as Voldemort's scream joined his. He forced his eyes open, wanting to see what was happening, but it was too dark, and yet too bright at the same time. He just couldn't keep his eyes open, as the pain intensified a hundredfold.

But already, Harry was beginning to feel the new power in his body. It was growing and it felt incredible. But his senses were screaming at him that it felt wrong, and yet, his body craved more of it. The power grew strong enough to overwhelm the pain he was already feeling and it tasted good.

Dangerous.

Delicious.

Terrible.

And then, just as sudden as it had started, the pain stopped. As did the storm. His senses still overwhelmed by everything, by the power, the pain and the sudden loss of pain, Harry felt his body shut down. His fingers slipped from the sword, as he and Voldemort both fell to their knees and then sideways.

Harry just managed to fight the darkness long enough to see the disbelieving look in Voldemort's eyes turn empty and his enemy's chest to still.

He had done it, Harry thought, as he allowed the darkness to claim him.


	41. Going Home

**A/N: Thanks again for the amazing reviews you've left me! They've nearly blown me off my feet! I only hope that I can keep you just as happy with the next two chapters, bringing this story to an end it and you deserve. However, it's not time yet to say goodbye. After this chapter, the next and last one will be posted on Saturday, so stay tuned until then. :)**

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**Chapter 41: Going Home**

The first time Harry became aware of his surroundings, his head was throbbing horribly. Muffled voices were speaking around him and he could feel that he was lying on something soft and that he was warm. Almost too warm. But he couldn't open his eyes and his tongue tasted funny. When he tried to speak, the only thing escaping his mouth was a low groan.

Immediately, the voices quieted for a moment, before someone spoke again. Suddenly, a harsh light appeared in front of him, as his eyelids were pulled open, and he groaned again. Once again, a muffled voice spoke, but he couldn't understand a word. His whole body protested, as he head was raised and something foul-tasting was poured into his mouth. His first reflex was too gag, but he was too weak for this and finally swallowed.

Only a short moment later, the pain lessened and everything went dark around him once again.

The second time, the sensation of waking up was already a lot more pleasant. The throbbing in his head had been reduced to a light ache and he could even open his eyes. It was dark around him, and blissfully quiet. Turning his head was still somewhat of an obstacle, but he managed to do it and saw some long red hair shine in the moonlight.

For a moment, he smiled, thinking it was Ginny, but then he remembered that it couldn't be. Where he was, Ginny was still a small baby. However, in this time he knew only one person with this hair in this shade of red. His mother. His blurred gaze recognized that she was curled up in an armchair, apparently fast asleep. She didn't look comfortable and yet he didn't want to wake her. He wouldn't know how to do it anyway.

Suddenly, a soft click alerted him to the presence of a second person in the room – Hogwarts' Hospital Wing he realized after a short moment – and then steps walked up to the bed. Soon, a dark figure came into his line of sight. The person gasped, when he saw that Harry's eyes are open.

"You're awake," James Potter whispered, careful not to wake his wife. "How are you feeling?"

Harry swallowed hard, but couldn't find his voice. His throat was too dry. All that escaped his throat was a croaked "Fine" which was so quiet that he didn't know, if James had even heard him.

"You gave us quite a scare," James continued, quietly. "When I heard your scream and then, when I found you after that magical storm was gone... I thought..." An almost inaudible sob escaped James' throat, and his body shook. "Don't ever do something like that ever again..."

Harry knew that he couldn't promise him this, but even if he had wanted too, he was again suddenly feeling incredibly tired and felt his eyes drift shut again.

When Harry awoke for the third time, he had to blink against the sunlight streaming through the windows. Once again, he could hear voices, only this time, he could immediately make out what they were saying and he recognized several of them at once.

Hermione. Ron. His parents. And Sirius.

He felt his lips stretch into a lazy smile. He was once again feeling much better. Most of the pain was gone, his head felt fairly normal again and even his throat didn't feel as dry as the last time he had woken up. He could even turn his head without using all of his strength this time.

There, only a few yards away from him, at the window, everyone was in deep conversation. He watched them for a while, relishing in the fact that they seemed to be alright. They were even smiling, so all had to be well.

"Ah, Harry," the brisk voice of Madam Pomfrey tore him out of his thoughts. "It's good that I'm finally present, when you wake up. How are you feeling?"

Immediately feeling all eyes on him, he smiled again, as he croaked, "I'm fine. When... can I... get out of... here?"

The others had moved closer, but still keeping their distance from him and Madam Pomfrey, as she was waving her wand over him. "You will first be allowed to leave the Hospital Wing, when I say so, Harry. But I daresay, if you continue to recover like this, I'd say about one more week. But first, drink. Your throat must hurt."

She helped Harry sit up and pushed a glass of water against his lips. Harry swallowed the cool liquid greedily, almost humming at the relief the water brought to his throat. First when he had finished three full glasses, did he slow down. He was holding a fourth glass in his hands, as he asked, "So, what's the verdict? How long have I been out and what's wrong with me?"

"You have been unconscious for five days, and have only woken up two times in that time. The first time was twenty-seven hours after the fight, the second time three days after the fight. And to be completely honest with you, I'm baffled as to what is wrong with you. One of my theories is exhaustion, magical as well as physical. And then there's still the fact that, during my examinations, I could feel strong disturbances in your magic, almost as if your magic was fighting against itself. They were really bad, when you were brought here, and I couldn't make head or tails of it. But this has calmed down a lot over the past few days."

Harry frowned, as he concentrated on his magic, and there, he could feel it. The dark magic he had absorbed from Voldemort, it was there, simmering just under the surface of his white magic. It was calm, for now, but thanks to the records he had read from Gryffindor, he knew that it most likely wouldn't always be like this. The dark magic would grow stronger, feed on his own magic, and in the end, if he didn't put an end to it somehow, control it completely.

"You will still need a lot of rest, but I'm sure that you'll make a full recovery," Madam Pomfrey finished her diagnosis. "But for now, I'm sure your friends would like to see you. But not for long, you really need your rest, and if I see you upsetting my patient, I'll have to ask you to leave." This she said with a glare directed at the five persons waiting for their turn.

They nodded and waited until Madam Pomfrey was back in her office, but then they nearly attacked him. From one second to another, Harry found himself in two tight embraces from Hermione and his mother. He laughed, though it hurt his chest. "Can't breathe," he choked out, causing them to let go off him, grinning sheepishly, though they both had tears in her eyes.

"Nice to see that you're not about to fall asleep on me again, son," James teased him, as he squeezed Harry's shoulder.

"It's nice to feel awake and alert for once," Harry retorted with a grin.

"Yeah, you look far better now, mate," Ron grinned back. "You had me worried for a while there. Okay, you had us worried," he corrected after a sharp look from Hermione.

"And I was worried about you..." Harry admitted. "At least in the moments when I could think clearly, or better yet, think at all. So you all came out of the battle unscathed?"

"More or less," Sirius told him, having kept his distance until now. He had a nervous grin on his face, as if he didn't know how to talk to Harry or act around him. "Hermione had a sprained ankle, which Poppy fixed in a sec, but some had a bit more serious injuries and there have been losses on our side."

Harry's insides clenched painfully. It was, as if he first now realized that persons important to him were missing here. "Who?"

Slowly walking up to him and putting a calming hand on his shoulder, Sirius explained, "Remus is in St. Mungo's. One Death Eater stabbed him with a silver dagger, but he can leave tomorrow. However, Frank Longbottom didn't make it."

"No..." Harry's heart sank. Once again, Neville had to grow up without his father. "And... what about Draco?"

"He's with Narcissa," Hermione replied, "taking care of the funeral arrangements. Lucius died in the crossfire. And... I know he wouldn't admit it, but I think it was Draco who did it."

"Is there more? Where is Dumbledore? Was he at the battle?"

"He was there, but a bit late and he stayed outside to help us with the Death Eaters," James replied grimly, almost angrily. "He had been surprised to see us all there, but when I had told him that you were inside, battling Voldemort, he told us not to disturb you, that you could do it alone. It was then, I went back inside."

Harry only nodded. A conversation with Dumbledore about his intentions and actions was the first point on his to-do-list. "And what about Peter?"

"That filthy rat's dead," James spat in disgust, though there was also regret in his eyes. "And it was his own fault. Jumped right in front of an Avada Kedavra meant for me. He sacrificed himself in his end."

Harry could only nod. There was nothing he could say. Peter had betrayed them all, but somehow, in the end, still saved his friend. Then, to change the topic, he asked, "And how does the Wizarding world take that Voldemort's dead?"

"They celebrating, of course," Lily told him. "Though we didn't tell anyone who killed him. Some think it was Dumbledore, others think it was a mysterious saviour. But they're all just glad that he's gone, for good. They burned his body two days ago."

During that afternoon, Harry found out a lot more things from his friends, before exhaustion overcame him again and he had to lie back down. His friends had left him then, promising to return the following day. But sleep wouldn't come easily this time, even though Harry was dead-tired. But he was still thinking about everything they had told him.

He was incredibly sad about Frank Longbottom being dead, but at least Neville still had his mother now. And they were in no danger of being tortured to insanity, as just one day ago the Order had ambushed a group of four Death Eaters, who had turned up at the Longbottoms' house. Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange and Barthemius Crouch Junior had been captured, taken to Azkaban and already been given the Kiss.

While Harry was a bit irritated that it hadn't been him to end Bellatrix, he felt a grim satisfaction that she had suffered a fate worse than death.

~*~

With nothing to do and feeling perfectly fine except for being a bit weak, Harry quickly became bored in the Hospital Wing, despite the countless visits he had from family, friends and even students. They always cheered him up, while they were there, but as soon as he was alone again, he began to brood.

And nothing good ever came out of brooding. When he had too much time to himself with only his thoughts as company, Harry now tended to think about the consequences of the ritual. Now that he was feeling better, becoming stronger again, he became more aware of the dark magic in his body. It would always be there. And once he had repeated the ritual in his own time, this dark magic would double, if not triple, with the amount of power the resurrected Voldemort possessed.

It would be better, if he, after he lost consciousness, never woke up again and just passed away. This would definitely be the easiest ending for all of them.

So, Harry was more than happy, when Poppy finally released him from the Hospital Wing one week later, but the happiness was short-lived, as she told him that Dumbledore was expecting him. Harry thanked her for the information and, after he had put on a pair of fresh jeans and a sweater – finally out of the pyjamas! – he finally left the Hospital Wing and turned to walk to Dumbledore's office.

The password still hadn't changed and Dumbledore was already expecting him, so, after a short and cold greeting, Harry sat down in the offered armchair with the words, "I'm sure you can imagine that I'm not happy with you, Albus."

"I'm sure I can. However, I ask you to hear my side of the story first."

"Go ahead."

The look in Dumbledore's eyes was filled with regret, as he began, "When you arrived in this timeline and we talked about the Prophecy, I had hoped that history didn't need to repeat itself. But the whole time, fate seemed to have a different idea, as you were thwarted again and again, whenever you put your mind to it. There were times, when I swore that I could see it in your eyes, the decision to end it, but then something happened and you were back to square one.

"Time passed and then only two weeks were left until you were to go home. I began wondering... The Prophecy clearly stated that it would be either your or Neville Longbottom and while I had hoped to keep this from happening, I just felt that you were the better candidate. So, I asked your parents to come to my office and seeing as they already knew the Prophecy, I didn't have to say much. But even though your parents were livid, they understood where I was coming from and I convinced them to let history repeat itself. Maybe, I told myself, maybe one of them would survive to give you the childhood you deserved.

"They then talked to Sirius, and just as it happened in your time, he suggested to make Peter Pettigrew the Secret Keeper. And I think you know the rest..." Dumbledore finished quietly.

After the long quiet hours spent in the Hospital Wing, Harry had also had enough time to think about Dumbledore's reason for letting history repeat itself and he had come to the same conclusion. And as furiously angry as he had been at Dumbledore just a few days ago, he just couldn't be angry at him still.

There were some times in life, when you had to make sacrifices.

Who knew this better than Harry Potter?

"And then my mum sent me the note, apologizing, and everything changed yet again," Harry muttered, more to himself, than to Dumbledore

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed. "Your mother's actions once again helped to defeat Voldemort, though in a different way than intended."

"Thank you for explaining this... I... I'm still not happy... But I understand your reasons and I forgive you for doing this. But I still have one more question," he finally said, noticing the relieved look in Dumbledore's eyes. "Where have you been the night of the battle? My father said that you arrived late."

"I was in Privet Drive," Dumbledore admitted. "While it was true that I hoped that your father might survive, I had to make preparations in case it didn't happen. I know that you have never been happy in your aunt's and uncle's house, but you've also told me that, the last time, I only left a note. I had hoped to remedy that mistake by going there and talk to them personally. However, as it turned out, my coming there was completely unnecessary. A young man called Harold Malfoy," there he gave Harry a pointed look, to which Harry only grinned sheepishly, "had been there a few days before me.

"Still, I exchanged some words with your relatives, and not all of them were pleasant. However, I didn't go directly to Godric's Hollow after that. I still stepped by Arabella Figg's house and alerted her to the fact that the Potters were in danger and that she soon might have to watch after you from afar. I couldn't deny a cup of tea, when she asked me, thinking I still had time, but as it was, her clock went wrong and it was much later than I had thought. It was a stupid mistake, something that shouldn't have happened, and when I arrived, the Order was already battling Death Eaters and you were inside fighting with Voldemort. James wasn't too happy with me, when I decided that you could do it on your own."

"He helped me, in the end," Harry told Dumbledore. "He distracted Voldemort long enough for me to attack him."

"Ah, yes, the attack... I've never seen something like this before..."

"And I'd rather not tell you about it," Harry said grudgingly. "It's highly dangerous magic and not everyone can use it. It only worked, because Voldemort and I are connected by this scar. But if it helps you, it's the same magic that Godric Gryffindor used to defeat Salazar Slytherin. That's why I needed the sword. It doesn't work without it. And really, if you need to know more about it, I've found everything about this spell in an untitled red book in the library."

Chuckling lightly, Dumbledore opened a drawer and took an untitled book with red bindings out of it, putting it on the table. "Is this the book you're talking about?"

"Yes," Harry said, surprised, as he saw the frayed binding. He would recognize this book anywhere. "If you have this book, why have you asked me about the spell?"

"Because this book doesn't tell me anything about it. When I open the book, all I find are the Lost Tales of Beedle the Bard. Many people would pay a fortune to get a hand on these fairy tales, as it is believed that the scripts had been lost, but I just find them enlightening to read and was rather surprised, when, two days ago, I was in the library, looking for something to occupy my mind with, this book seemed to call out to me. I opened it and there they were – the Lost Tales."

"So, this book works like the Room of Requirement?" Harry asked confused.

"Yes, it works similarly to the Room of Requirement, I believe. And that's also, why our dear Hermione found the information about Norton Lewthwaite in this book. When you have the need, the desire, to know something, and you're in vicinity of this book, it calls to you."

Harry thought for a moment about this revelation, until he suddenly remembered something, "Norton Lewthwaite said that he found the information on _Proferre Tempus_ in a book from the library. Do you think..."

"That this is the book? Yes, I think so. The probability is very high."

"So... maybe... the Voldemort in my time also got his hands on this book somehow and found the information on the spell in there, too..."

"This is only speculation, Harry, but I think you may be right."

Harry gazed at the book with a concerned look on his face. "Then the book could be really dangerous... It could also be helpful, of course, but in the wrong hands..."

"Just as many magical objects, this book can be dangerous in the wrong hands, but in my opinion, this can be even more dangerous. And because of this, I will keep this book in my office and enjoy the Lost Tales from time to time."

~*~

Four weeks had again passed since Halloween, another new moon's night was approaching, and Harry already felt strong enough to leave. He and the others had enjoyed the extra weeks they had spent in this time – Harry especially used this time with his parents, and of course, Sirius, working past the mistrust and building up a relationship with him for the few short weeks - but now it was finally time to leave. So, after another long farewell breakfast-lunch-tea they were now again standing on the Astronomy Tower, only this time surrounded by their family and friends. By now, Arthur and Molly had also told their oldest son, who _Professor Weasley _and his friends really were and they were still staring at them in awe.

A few days ago, Hermione had tested the Beater's Bat and she had found out that, fortunately, the spell was still dormant, waiting to be activated by the incantation. This had been a huge relief for everyone, seeing as they didn't need to brew the potion again. Having to wait another half year was something Harry definitely didn't want to do – he wanted to get this over with now as quickly as possible, especially seeing as he didn't know how much time he had until Voldemort's magic would decide to act up.

Ron had almost come too late, as, just as they had been walking towards the Astronomy Tower, he had remembered that he had forgotten a Quidditch magazine, which in their time was really rare and worth a fortune, so he had hurried back to his room and come back only a few minutes before it was time to leave. He had apologized, saying that he had met Sybill Trelawney on his way back and that she first had to tell him that something terrible would happen to him – "Barmy," he had muttered with a grin, "As if I need words like that before I head into battle.".

Some of their families were still sniffling, as they had just finished their final round of tearful goodbyes, when the four time travellers reached out to touch the bat. The tension was high, so Harry said to his friends before the sun had sunk completely, "Remember... This will have to be a quick fight. I'm not back yet to my full strength, which means I need to finish Voldemort as soon as possible after arriving. Hermione, you know what to do?"

Hermione nodded determinedly. "Apparate to Hogwarts and get Gryffindor's Sword for you. And hurry."

Harry offered her a smile, before he looked over his friends' shoulders to his parents. They were both smiling at him and he could clearly see the love and pride they felt for in their eyes. Tears were streaming down his mother's face, and James had his arms swung around her shoulder to pull her close against her chest.

They were happy. They were alive. They would have a good future.

With these thoughts in his mind, Harry locked gazes with them, as he almost felt the sun disappear behind the horizon and then, as one, the four time travellers said with clear voices, "_Reverto Tempus!" _Harry felt a strong jerk behind his navel and then, his parents and everyone else was suddenly gone.

Or to be more precise, they had left the Astronomy Tower.

Contrary to his experience with _Proferre Tempus_, Harry didn't feel like falling this time. Instead he felt as if he were flying, higher and higher, and once again he thought he could see pictures from his past, slowly progressing to his present.

And then, suddenly, there was a bright flash and his feet slammed into the ground

It was night, the air was warm and sultry, and a quick glance around told him that they were exactly where they were supposed to be. A grin spread over his face – they were home.

But they weren't done, yet.

There was a green bubble around them, the one Voldemort had used to send them to the past, but this bubble burst only a few short seconds after they had arrived. Voldemort was still standing in front of them, the gleeful and victorious look on his face, quickly replaced by an angry snarl. "What's happened!"

"Hello again, Tom," Harry greeted him smirking. "Long time no see."

Harry didn't know if Voldemort realized that they were dressed in completely different clothes than before, or that they were carrying backpacks and brooms – not to forget the Beater's Bat in Ron's other hand. But that didn't matter at the moment. Harry used Voldemort's confusion to look at Hermione. She only nodded once, before she turned on the spot and Disapparated with a lout _crack_!

"Why didn't the spell work?" Voldemort raged, completely ignoring the fact that Hermione had just disappeared.

"Oh, it did work," Harry said calmly, letting his backpack slide down his arms and tossing it to the side along with his _Thunderbolt_. "But we're back." He noticed that Ron and Draco were following his example, however, Ron didn't let go of the bat. He really wanted to crack some Death Eater skulls with it that night.

"What?" Voldemort was livid, his scarlet eyes blazing in anger. "How?"

"That's for me to know... and for you to find out," Harry taunted, gripping his wand tightly in his right hand. If he somehow managed to keep Voldemort talking, he might give Hermione the time to get the sword to him without having to fight for too long first. "But it took us more than a year to return, and guess what... I used the time in the past wisely."

"What are you talking about, Harry?" Now, though still angry, Voldemort sounded mildly curious.

A mocking grin appeared on Harry's face, as he said, "I've killed you. Without a chance to return. You're gone."

"You're lying!" his opponent hissed, already raising his wand, and almost as if the whole battle had paused while they had been talking, it seemed that the fighting noises now returned to full force, when Voldemort cast his first spell. "_Crucio!"_

Harry and his friends dodged quickly, while Harry was urging Hermione to hurry, he needed the... "Sword..." Harry muttered surprised, as his eyes once again fell on Albus Dumbledore, who was closing the distance to them with long and confident strides. First now he remembered that he had seen him carry something apparently heavy, before they had been sent to the past, and now he finally saw what it was. He grinned. "Accio Gryffindor's Sword!"

The sword soared out of Dumbledore's hands right into Harry's outstretched one. He rolled to his side, as he saw another red light fly towards him and jumped to his feet. And that's, when he saw his opening. Ron and Draco had both shot spells at Voldemort, effectively distracting him from Harry. After having taken one deep breath, Harry lunged forward and rammed the sword straight into Voldemort's chest.

_Déjà vu. _

Voldemort's eyes widened in disbelief, as he stared at Harry. But then, they blazed again. "You think... you've defeated me..." he wheezed. "You think... this will kill me?"

Harry didn't answer; instead he began with the incantation. The Gaelic words once again flowed from his lips, one time, two times... The wind around him once again picked up, quickly transforming into a magical storm. It was howling in his ears, but the fighting noises were still audible. The Death Eaters were shocked by what had happened and Harry saw that they were trying to run to their master's side, but the Order kept them at bay. Each of them was engaged in battle, even Dumbledore, duelling three Death Eaters at once.

Three times.

Four times.

Five times.

However, it was during the sixth time that he spoke the incantation, when something happened that almost let Harry abandon the ritual. On his left, he saw Bellatrix Lestrange run up to them with her wand raised in the air. She yelled something and Harry knew that it was over. A jet of green light came shooting from her wand, directed at him. Trapped by the storm, there was nothing he could do to dodge and he could only hope that the storm would swallow the spell before it hit him.

It all seemed to happen in slow-motion, as just as he wanted to close his eyes, hoping to finish the incantation before the spell hit, he saw someone run up to them, right between the spell and him. He almost stumbled over the syllable of a Gaelic word, as his best friend since they met on the Hogwarts Express eleven years ago, jumped right in front of the spell. Harry wanted to scream, to yell at him to stop, but before a word could leave his mouth, everything went very fast.

The spell hit Ron Weasley square in the chest and he dropped to the ground in mid-run.

He didn't get up again.

The incantation had just been finished the sixth time. Harry's throat locked and he felt tears in his eyes. Every part of him wanted to go to his friend, but deep down he knew that there was nothing he could do now for him. Yet, there was something else he could do. He would finish Voldemort. He owed it to Ron, so that his sacrifice hadn't been in vain.

Another unearthly scream echoed through the night air and Harry saw Molly Weasley running up to her son. However, before she reached him, she whirled around and faced Bellatrix, the look on her face absolutely murderous. She was yelling something, but he couldn't hear what it was, but just a split second later, a curse soared through the air. Bellatrix was laughing, but her face froze when the curse hit her square in the chest. She fell, her eyes unseeing, and didn't move again.

"NO!" Voldemort yelled at the loss of his best lieutenant, and Harry was reminded of the fact that he wasn't finished, yet.

_This is for Ron_, he thought, as he spoke the incantation for the final time, preparing himself for what he knew would happen.

The pain in his scar was just as unbearable, but this time he was prepared for the pain, gritting his teeth and watching Voldemort. The Dark Lord's eyes had rolled back in his skull, as all his dark magic was transferred through the sword right into Harry. Harry felt it come to him, Harry felt it, as it flowed through his whole body, meeting his magic, meeting the other dark magic. He felt the battle within him start and it was terrifying and beautiful at the same time.

Again, it stopped just as sudden as it had started, only this time, darkness claimed Harry immediately, before he even hit the ground, and all thought evaded him.


	42. Healing

**A/N: Not much to say here... just one thing to Mona: Immerhin hingst du nicht auf einem Flughafen fest und Gott sei Dank ist diese blöde Aschewolke jetzt auch wieder weg. An meiner Schule hingen zwei Kollegen im Urlaub fest (und ich wohne ja auch noch fast an der dänischen Grenze) - einer auf Mallorca, eine andere in der Türkei. Einer der beiden ist erst zurück. ^^ Ich hoffe, dieser blöde Vulkan hört ganz schnell wieder auf so'n Mist zu machen. Zur Geschichte: Angebot steht immer noch. Wenn du was nicht verstehst, schick einfach ne pm und dann erkläre ich es dir, versprochen :)**

**But now, better go on reading the last chapter and then read the second, longer AN at the bottom! Thanks! :)**

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Chapter 42: Healing

The sun was shining brightly down at him, as he was sitting at the lake. Small waves were running up and down the sandy bank. A slight breeze was rustling the leaves on the trees and if he concentrated closely, he could even imagine he could hear the insects in the grass or the Giant Squid splashing with the water. Sometimes, sometimes he could even imagine to hear the laughter of children in the background, but it really was just all in his imagination.

Harry Potter had no idea, how long he had been sitting there, on the bank of the lake. He had just woken up there suddenly and had sat up. He hadn't moved since. Time didn't seem to matter. The sun didn't rise or fall. There were no insects, no other animals, no other people. He was completely alone.

And he enjoyed the solitude. He didn't need to think. He just needed to simply _be_.

So, Harry was actually feeling a bit annoyed, when he suddenly heard the tell-tale sound of footsteps drawing nearer to where he was sitting. He didn't remove his eyes from the glassy surface of the lake, as whoever dared to disturb the silence settled down next to him.

Whoever it was didn't speak for a long time, but eventually that person's patience seemed to run thin, as he asked in a voice that was too familiar for Harry to ignore, "How long do you intend to sit out here?"

Harry whirled around, only to stare into the grinning and freckled face of his best friend. His dead best friend. "You're dead," Harry just blurted out.

Ronald Weasley threw his head back, laughing, "Says the one who's sitting at an imaginary lake that belongs to an imaginary Hogwarts."

"So... is this the afterlife?"

Ron shook his head. "I'm sorry, mate... but this isn't the afterlife, yet. I think you can call it _in-between_."

Harry frowned, again looking back towards the lake. "And this _in-between_ looks like the Hogwarts grounds?"

"I guess it looks like whatever you want it to look like. I mean, I can't tell. I didn't get to stop here. I just went straight into the afterlife after Bella's Avada Kedavra hit me."

Harry swallowed hard. "So, you really are dead. And what are you doing here now?"

Shrugging, Ron replied, "We saw that you weren't going to move on and then we voted on who would come to you. I've won."

"We?" Harry asked, his voice thick.

Ron nodded. "Your parents, Sirius, Minerva, Neville, me and even Cedric. All the people close to you who you saw die. And they thought I was the best candidate for talking to you about the choice you have to make."

"What choice?"

"If you want to come to the afterlife with me or if you want to go home."

Chuckling lightly, Harry replied, "That's not much of a choice."

"Not?" Ron raised his eyebrows.

"There's only one choice I can make, the easiest for everyone. I will come with you," Harry said decidedly.

"Are you really sure? I mean, why?" Ron appeared to be honestly confused now, as he looked at Harry with questioning eyes. "Why are you so eager to die?"

"Because," Harry explained, "even here I can feel it grow. What I didn't tell anyone, was the truth about the ritual I used to defeat Voldemort. With the ritual, I've absorbed all of his magic and it is going to overwhelm me someday, especially now that I have the magic of both Voldemorts in me."

"I know about the ritual. Ol' Godric himself told us," Ron waved him off. "We all know in the afterlife and you were really stupid Harry. But do you know what's even more stupid? It's giving up, taking the easy way out."

Harry looked at Ron sharply. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"No?" Again, Ron's eyebrows rose so high that they almost disappeared behind his bangs. "Then let me tell you a story. You remember when I was almost late to return home in the other timeline because I ran into Trelawney? Well, do you want to know _why_ exactly I was late? I walked past her, as I rounded a corner, and brushed her elbow by accident. And this must have set something in her off. Her eyes became distant and her voice sounded unlike her own, when she began to say something about _the Knight's sacrifice in the battle against the Dark Lord_."

"Another prophecy," Harry muttered, sounding defeated.

"Exactly. I realized what this meant, I knew that this meant I was going to sacrifice myself in the battle against Voldemort. But you know what? I didn't run away. I came to the Astronomy Tower and went home with you, knowing what would expect me."

"That was mighty stupid of you, mate."

Ron laughed again. "Well, we're Gryffindors, what do you expect? And now, I expect you to be a real Gryffindor and go home. Don't run away, Harry."

"But I'm not strong enough..."

"Do you need me to hit you again?" Ron threatened. "If you're already talking like this, you've already lost the battle before you've even started to fight. And you need to fight, Harry. Don't let him win! And, please, think of all the people you would leave behind. Hermione, Ginny... and please, Harry, don't make my mum lose another son. They all have already lost one of us – don't make them lose both of us."

Harry didn't say anything for a long time, pondering Ron's words. He was right, of course. Harry was running away. He had wanted to make the easy choice, not the right one. He wanted to take the coward's way out. And hurt all the people who loved him by doing this.

A few years ago, he had sworn to himself that, once Voldemort was defeated, he would finally have a normal life. With no Prophecy hanging over his head, there were so many things he could do now. He could even finally ask Ginny on a date.

But was he really strong enough for the normal life? Was he strong enough to do what Godric Gryffindor hadn't been able to do?

He looked at Ron and the expectant look on his face.

Well, there was only one way to find out.

"How do I get back?"

Ron grinned brightly, as he got up and offered Harry his hand to help him up. Harry took the hand and was pulled to his feet. Turning so that he was standing directly next to his best mate, he looked over the Hogwarts grounds. "You just have to go through the front gate. It's that easy. The way to the afterlife is through the front doors of Hogwarts."

Harry looked over his shoulder to the great doors to the castle, almost beckoning him inside into the Great Hall, where no doubt a delicious feast would await him. His parents were there, as was Sirius, but after he had met them in the past, Harry's desire to meet them wasn't as great as it would have been otherwise.

"Alright... I'm ready to go," he finally announced, looking back towards the front gates.

"Wise choice, mate," Ron told him with a smile on his face and the two young men hugged. "Take care, Harry. I'll be watching you and believe me, if you ever hurt my sister, I will personally return from the grave and kill you."

"I'm counting on it, mate," Harry replied grinning, as they let go of each other. Though he also felt tears well up in his eyes, as he turned away from Ron and walked towards the front gates with a determined stride. He didn't look back, knowing that if he did, he would waver. So, with his eyes straight ahead, Harry walked through the front gates and directly into a world of pain.

~*~

Everything was hurting. Truly everything, even his eyelids, as he tried to open them. He knew what that meant. It meant that he should have gone with Ron.

"Urgh," he groaned, as he once again tried to open his eyes. Everything was blurry through the small slits he had managed to pry open, but what he could see surprised him. This didn't seem to be the ceiling of the Hospital Wing and also the smell of the room was wrong somehow. It really smelled like hospital, which made his wish to just sink back into oblivion that much stronger.

However, just as he wanted to close his eyes again, he heard a click and something blue and red came through the door, followed by something black and brown. The blue and red blur stopped dead in its tracks, as its eyes fell on Harry, causing the second blur to walk right into its back.

"Harry!" the blue and red blur screeched, causing his ears to hurt. But finally, he knew who that blur was. Ginny. "You are awake. Finally!" A sob shook her body, as the black and brown blur hugged her comfortingly.

"Hush, Ginny... Everything is alright..." Harry also recognized this shaking voice. Hermione. "I'll go get a Healer... Why don't you stay with Harry?"

Harry assumed that Ginny had nodded, as she then walked around the bed and settled down on a chair next to him. Harry tried to raise his hand, to touch her cheek, but it didn't even lift an inch from the bed before it fell down again. His whole body groaned in protest at the movement. "How... long..." he wanted to say, but all that he could hear was an unidentifiable gurgle.

So, it was much more a miracle that Ginny seemed to understand what he wanted. "Five weeks, three days and fourteen hours. I've been here every day, waiting for you to wake up... and now... now you're finally awake..." Once again, sobs shook her body and Harry felt incredibly bad, unable to comfort her.

"Gin..."

"It's alright... I'm okay... I'm just so happy that... you... you're back. The first few days, we thought we had lost you for sure. You wouldn't respond to anything, your magic acted up all the time... No one knew what was wrong with you. And then you just slipped away. Your body was still here, working, but your mind was gone... The Healers said that you'd most likely never wake up again."

Talking about this brought a fresh round of tears and before Ginny could recover, Hermione returned with a Healer and the Healer ushered both of them out of the room, while she wanted to examine Harry. Sometime during the Healer's quite lengthy examination, Harry drifted off again, but this time he was only sleeping.

~*~

As the days passed, Harry quickly realized that this recovery would take much longer than the one in the past timeline. He wasn't allowed to leave his bed for three more weeks, not even to go to the toilet, much to his annoyance and embarrassment. However, he also guessed that there wasn't a minute, when he was alone, although he sometimes wished he was. There always seemed to be someone with him, talking to him or just staying with him, when he didn't want to talk.

Two days after he had woken up, Molly and Arthur Weasley had come to visit him, and upon seeing them – he had finally been allowed to wear his glasses that morning – he had to swallow the guilt that suddenly arose. After all, their youngest son was dead because of him. He had apologized profusely for this, but Molly and Arthur didn't want to hear anything of it. They had only wished that Harry could have attended the funeral a few days after the battle, to say goodbye. Harry didn't have the heart to tell them that he already had said goodbye to Ron.

Hermione was another frequent visitor, coming everyday for a few hours to see how he was. Sometimes, Draco was with her, but over their times alone, Harry thought that their bond of friendship had grown even stronger. They talked a lot about their friendship with Ron, reminiscing about happy times and not so happy times, laughing together and crying together, helping each other to deal with the loss of their best friend. They also talked about the final battle and Harry admitted that it had been his intention to keep her out of it as much as possible and had therefore chosen to send her to Hogwarts to get the sword. After all, he hadn't known then that Dumbledore had brought the sword with him. Hermione was a bit irritated at first, but quickly forgave him.

The other person, who seemed to be there, whenever there wasn't a visitor, was Ginny. She was already there early in the morning and first left late in the night, when the Healers kicked her out of his room. Her presence was one of the few pleasant ones. She knew when he needed to talk or when he just needed silence. She never pushed or pressured him and maybe that's why, one day, when both Ginny and Hermione were in his room, he told them the full truth about the ritual. They were shocked, understandably, but promised to help Harry with whatever he needed. Hermione even exclaimed that she would search for a way to get Voldemort's magic out of Harry's body. Harry had said that this was impossible, but Hermione only retorted that nothing was impossible.

During the first few coherent days at St. Mungo's he also finally managed to weasel out of Remus – who had first been able to visit him then because of the full moon – what had happened to Voldemort. Apparently, he hadn't died, much to Harry's chagrin. _But_ he had lost all his magic, being nothing more than a Muggle now, and the Wizengamot had sentenced him to a life sentence at Azkaban. Harry wondered, how he was faring there, but in the end decided that it didn't matter. He wouldn't be able to hurt anyone anymore.

Harry also got Remus to talk about the losses the Order had suffered during that night of the battle. Ron was, fortunately and miraculously, the only one who had died, but there had been grave injuries. Bill Weasley had been attacked by the werewolf Fenrir Greyback and, though it hadn't been a full moon, his face had been mangled badly. He would always bear the scars and a hunger for rare steak. Hagrid had lost his left arm due to a strong cutting curse, which would make his duties at Hogwarts a bit harder, but, as Hagrid had assured him during his visit, he didn't mind the challenge.

There were more injuries inside the Order of course, but those two, and Ron's death of course, where the ones that had hit Harry the hardest.

Sometimes, he spent hours a day just staring into space, not feeling, not thinking, and ignoring whoever might be with him at that moment. Because he knew that as soon as he began to think and to feel the despair would set it. And he wasn't strong enough for that yet. He didn't want to deal with it, yet.

One week after he had awoken, the Healers had finally allowed Albus Dumbledore to visit Harry. They had been scared that he would upset him, but quite the contrary had been the case. Harry and Dumbledore had spent a few pleasant hours with each other, talking about both important and unimportant things. Harry told him, too, about the ritual, and as the Headmaster offered his help and assured him with a smile that Harry, as long as he didn't give up fighting, should be able to beat it someday, Harry already felt a lot more confident.

While they had been talking about the ritual, Harry had also remembered to ask Dumbledore, why he had brought the sword, if he had known that he needed it.

"Well," Dumbledore had said. "Just as the alarm was raised and I wanted to leave my office, an envelope materialized on my desk. It bore my name written in my handwriting, so I couldn't ignore it. And its content was mostly interesting, explaining that this letter was indeed sent by me, but that this me was from another timeline – the timeline you were sent to. I read through it quickly and it gave an account of your life in the past and the final battle. I told myself in the letter that you needed the sword, so I took it with me."

"But how did your other self sent it to our time?" Harry had wanted to know.

"I explained in this letter that I used a variation of the spell _Proferre Tempus_, using one of your hairs so that it would know in which timeline to go. I had apparently worked on this spell for a long time." Dumbledore grinned at Harry. "But how I had done it is something I hadn't revealed in this letter. Unfortunately, because I'm most curious about the workings of this spell."

Harry grinned. He could imagine how curious Dumbledore was.

During those few hours with each other, they also shared things they had never shared with each other before and also discussed, how they would go from here. The public demanded a speech from Harry, but this was the furthest thing on Harry's mind. Reporters wanted to interview him, but again, this was something Harry didn't even want to think about. Dumbledore supported him in each and every one of these decisions.

~*~

Finally, on the morning after the fourth week of awareness had begun, Harry thought that it was high time to leave the bed. The Healers had said three weeks bed rest and they were over and honestly, he really wanted to get out of bed and move around. His whole body was itching to do something and if it was just walking.

So he swung his legs over the edge of the bed early in the morning, before someone had come to see him, and walked slowly and shakily to the bathroom in his room. He was really lucky to have gotten such a room – he didn't have to share it and he had his own bathroom, too, something not many people in St. Mungo's had.

After he had relieved himself and flushed the toilet, Harry washed his hands. He raised his head to look into the mirror, wanting to know how bad he really looked, and what he saw startled him. His green eyes were dull behind the glasses (contact lenses were still forbidden), his face still pale and his long hair matted. And he hated what he saw!

Frantically, Harry pulled open the drawers of the cabinet, until he finally found what he had been looking for. He grabbed the pair of scissors and began to cut off his hair, strand by strand. But once he was done, long black strands littering the floor and sink, it still wasn't enough.

This man in the mirror was a murderer, a killer! His body was so full with dark magic that he shouldn't be allowed to live!

With a cry, Harry's fist met the mirror. It shattered, shards burying itself in his fist, but he punched it again and again with the same fist and strength until almost nothing was left of the mirror image. Angry tears streaming down his face, Harry slid to the ground, his fist bleeding freely.

Let it bleed, he thought, as he looked at it numbly.

He didn't know how long he sat there, until he suddenly heard a gasp to his right. It was exhausting to lift his head, and he didn't need to, as Ginny's face appeared in his field of vision just a second later. "Oh Harry," she mumbled, taking Harry's hand into her own and regarding it with a wince. "What have you done?"

"It's not as bad as it looks."

Looking at him sharply, Ginny replied, "Let me be the judge of that." She then pulled out her wand and proceeded to clean the fist of even the tiniest shard that had found its way into the skin and flesh. When she was finished, she began mumbling a spell under her breath and moved her wand over the wound. Harry watched in fascination as the skin knitted back together. "You have to take better care of yourself..."

"I'm a killer, Ginny... I deserve pain..."

"Nonsense," Ginny snapped. "Stop wallowing in self-pity, Potter. Get a grip and get up!" She took his arm in a firm grip and pulled him up with surprising strength. Pulling him to the one remaining shard of the mirror still hanging on the wall, she asked, "What do you see?"

Harry didn't answer, trying not to look into what was left of the mirror. But Ginny left him no choice, as she took his chin into her hand and forced him to look at his mirror image.

"Then let me tell you, what I see. I see a man, who has gone through too much, but who has fought and come out of all of it victorious. I see a man, who has been strong enough to bear this burden and a man, who is strong enough to come out on top of everything fate might throw at him. Not a killer. Not someone, who deserves pain. I see you, Harry. I see _you_."

And then she kissed him and it was the best that had ever happened in his life until now. Better than finding out that he was a wizard and better than knowing that Voldemort would never bother him again. If he had to produce a Patronus now, it would be unstoppable.

~*~

Two months and one week after he had woken up, Harry was finally allowed to leave. Or rather, he had been bored out of his mind and had convinced the Healers to let him go. He couldn't wait to return to his flat in London, where he had his peace and quiet, his own bed and didn't have to eat hospital food any longer.

He hadn't told anyone that he was released that day, hoping to slip out of St. Mungo's without anyone realizing it, most of all the reporters. He hadn't even told his friends, so he was more than a bit surprised, when suddenly, a lot earlier in the morning than usual, Ginny slipped into the room.

"Hey," she greeted him with a light grin, skipping up to him and pecking him quickly on the lips.

They hadn't progressed much over the course of the past few weeks, not doing much more than kissing rather chastely. The kiss in the bathroom after Harry's breakdown had been passionate compared to what they had done afterwards. But Harry was a lot happier now, after having talked to Ginny about his worries and his feelings, something he had never done before. The breakdown had opened something in him, opened the floodgate and once he had started to talk after their amazing kiss, he just couldn't stop.

"Hey," he replied, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

She grinned. "A little bird told me that they finally release you today. And I... well, I wanted to show you something before you go home."

Since Harry had already finished packing the few things he'd had with him in the hospital, he just slung his backpack over his shoulder and took Ginny's hand. "Lead the way."

Making sure to look around every corner before they rounded it, snickering, to find out if maybe a reporter was waiting there, they eventually got out of the hospital unnoticed. It helped a bit that Ginny had hid part of her long red hair under a Muggle base cap and that Harry's hair was once again short and he was still wearing square black-rimmed glasses. The last time the reporters had seen Harry, he had still had long hair and contact lenses.

As Harry still hadn't returned to full strength, Ginny side-along Apparated him and Harry's stomach clenched, when he realized where they had arrived. They were standing in front of great iron wrought gates on a gravel path, In front of them were countless rows of graves.

"Come," Ginny said softly. "He's waiting..."

She tugged at his hand and Harry followed her along the rows and graves until they stopped in front of one grave with a maroon headstone. Despite the serious situation, Harry couldn't suppress a chuckle, "He would have hated that stone."

"I'm sure he would have."

Harry let go of Ginny's hand and took a step forward, kneeling in front of the headstone and tracing the words engraved there.

_Ronald Bilius Weasley_

_1980 – 2001_

_Beloved son, loyal friend_

_We miss you_

"Hey there, mate," he mumbled. "Sorry I didn't bring you any flowers, but Ginny kinda surprised me with this."

He hesitated for a moment, thinking about what he could say now without sounding stupid, until one thing that's been bothering him for a long time came to his mind.

"I know I should have told you before, and you would have probably told me to shove it, but I still have to say it: I'm sorry that I couldn't save you. I wished everyone could have gotten through this unscathed, but if it had to happen to anyone, I never would have wanted it to be you. But I know I can't change the past..."

Harry grinned wryly.

"Of all things this is something I've learned. Going back wouldn't change anything here." Another chuckle escaped his lips and wiped a stray tear away from his eyes. "Well, what I actually wanted to say is... goodbye, mate. I miss you. And say hello to everyone else up there. And tell them... tell them I made the right choice. And that I don't regret it anymore."

There was a smile on his face, when he got back to his feet. Ginny had kept her distance the whole time, giving him his privacy and he really appreciated that. "Thank you, Gin," he whispered, as he took her hand and squeezed it.

"You're welcome," Ginny replied with a soft smile.

Harry turned around to look once more at the headstone bearing his best friend's name, and then at the blue sky above him. The December sun was warming his skin and he smiled.

Everything wasn't alright yet. He still wasn't fully recovered and there were still hard days ahead of him. He would have to fight. But he had help, help from his friends, who had become his family over the past few years. And they would help him heal.

~*~

_The other timeline, ten years after the time travellers have left_

"Come on, mum! I'm going to miss the train, if we don't hurry!" a young black-haired boy with glasses yelled at his parents, as he pushed his trolley forwards. On top of his heavy-looking trunk was a cage with a snowy owl, who he had called Hedwig. She was a birthday present for his eleventh birthday from a good friend.

His parents were a few feet behind him, walking normally and grinning. The young red-haired girl holding onto her mother's hand was also tugging at it rather impatiently. "Why can't I go, too?" she asked, for what must be the hundred's time, according to the father, who was rolling his eyes.

"Because you're still too young, Rose," the mother said gently. "You have to wait two more years and then you can go, too, and you know that."

"Come _on," _the boy urged again. "I'm sure the others are all there already!"

Laughing, the parents and the boy's younger sister quickened their pace and joined their son. Soon they reached the barrier that separated them from the train and the son went first, followed by the mother with the girl and at last the father.

Steam billowed through the air, as they reached the other side of the barrier, and the young boy's face broke into a huge grin, as he spotted his friends standing not far away from them. "Ron! Drake!" he called them, running up to them laughing, almost as if he hadn't seen them in weeks. Actually, he had only seen them the day before.

"Harry!" they greeted him, also with big smiles on their face.

"Can you believe it's really happening?" Ron asked excitedly. "After all the stories Fred and George have told me, I can't wait to go to Hogwarts!"

"I know, it's weird, isn't it?"

"Ah, my favourite godson... there you finally are, Harry," Sirius suddenly appeared next to their group, pulling Harry into a hug.

Harry pushed away embarrassedly. "I'm your only godson, Sirius. And it's because of my parents that we are late. I was ready to go a_ges ago_!"

"At exactly seven o'clock this morning," James Potter said grinning, as he greeted his best friend, ignoring the annoyed "DAD!" from his son.

Sirius laughed. "And I had to drag Drake out of his bed at eight o'clock and he hadn't even packed yet."

"That's because I'm not as vain as you are, Sirius," Draco Black, or better known as Drake among his friend and family, retorted. "I don't need much time to get ready."

Harry had known him and Ron all his life, though his parents had told him that Drake had not always lived with Sirius. He had lived with his mother, Narcissa Malfoy, after his father had been killed in the final battle against Voldemort, but unfortunately Narcissa had been killed as well, by a Death Eater who hadn't been captured back then, only a few months after Voldemort had been defeated by the mysterious wizard.

"Yeah, right... who needs one hour in the bathroom in the morning? You or me?" Sirius argued, ruffling Drake's short blond spikes, much to the boy's annoyance.

"Hey! Don't touch the hair!"

They laughed, and Harry looked around. Platform 9 ¾ was packed this morning, unsurprisingly with all the Hogwarts students returning to school today. A bright grin spread over his face, as he saw two more familiar faces. "Hey, Jocy! Sel! We're over here!" he waved at them.

Jocelyn Snape, who was starting her fourth year at Hogwarts this year, and her younger brother Selvyn, who would go to Hogwarts next year, came running up to them, followed by their parents Severus and Clara. The adults exchanged greetings, while the kids also began to talk excitedly with each other.

All too soon it was time for them to get on the train and after saying goodbye to their parents, the children went to look for an empty compartment, while Jocelyn went to find her friends. They found one quickly and settled down, opening the window to wave to their parents. Selvyn and Rose, who couldn't go with them yet, and Ginny Weasley, who was also still too young, but who was always very shy when Harry was around, waved after them, as the train began to move, but eventually, when they couldn't see the platform any longer, the three boys sat back down.

The witch with the trolley came and Harry and Drake bought a lot of sweets, sharing with Ron. They played several rounds of Exploding Snap and Ron once again tried to make acceptable chess players out of Harry and Drake. He was on his third attempt, when they suddenly heard a commotion outside. Curious, they got up and Harry opened the door, just in time to hear a voice hiss,

"Go home, mudblood!"

Standing with their backs to them, there were two boys the size of a gorilla. And with a sigh, Harry realized that he would recognize those backs anywhere. Motioning to Ron and Drake to take out their wands, they stepped into the corridor. "Hey, Crabbe, Goyle!" he said loudly, almost conversationally, getting the two boys' attention. Harry raised his wand and noticed his friends doing the same. "What's up?"

They warily looked at the wands, then at each other and back at the wands, apparently realizing that they were outnumbered and had no chance in a fight. "Nothing," Goyle grunted. "Just welcoming new students."

"Okay... you've said your hello. Now move on," Drake snarled.

After having exchanged one more look, they scampered away, finally revealing the person they had been bullying. It was a girl with long and bushy hair, sitting on the ground with her knees pulled up to her face. She was obviously a First Year, just like them. "Hey there..." Harry said gently, kneeling down next to her. "I'm Harry..."

"Hermione," the girl sniffled, looking up at her saviours. Suddenly her eyes went wide. "You're Harry Potter! I've read all about you. Voldemort came to your house the night he was killed!"

Harry grinned, amused. "That's true... Now, why don't you join me and my friends in our compartment? There are still some empty seats."

"I'd love to... But I promised a boy I'd help him find his toad."

Harry sighed, but exchanged a grin with his friends. "Trevor..." they said as one.

Hermione looked at them confused. "No, the boy's name is Neville."

"But the toad is called Trevor," Ron told her, suddenly blushing a deep red when Hermione's attention was on him.

"Why don't we help you look for the toad and then you and Neville can come to our compartment?" Harry suggested. "In the meantime, why don't you tell us more about yourself? You're Muggleborn, aren't you?"

And so the four First Years went on their first mission to find the missing toad Trevor together, all the while getting to know each other better and beginning to like each other.

Sometimes, you didn't need to fight a real troll to become friends.

**THE END**

* * *

**A/N2: So, this is it. This was the last chapter of this story. Somehow, I'm sad to see it go, but otherwise I'm soooo happy that it's finally, finally finished! I don't know, how many of you have stayed with me since the very beginning, but those of you who did have seen me go through a big part of my life. I finished my apprenticeship, then I went to university and now, I'm at school learning how to be a real teacher. A lot has happened, many ups and downs, but through all of this I kept writing - more or less regularly - and I kept my promise that I'd finish my story! It's done, guys! It really is!**

**For those of you who are curious, I have a rough outline for a sequel on my harddrive, but I don't know when, or if I will ever get around to write it. For now, I'll have to finish some other projects as well, and maybe, maybe, I'll write it then. And maybe, if my mood strikes me and my muse cooperates as well, I might even write some outtakes, from other point of views for example. But I can't promise you anything, sorry. **

**At last, I want to thank you all for your support and reviews! Without you guys I probably would have lost a lot of my motivation sometime down the road, and each time I got a new review, I couldn't stop smiling! You are the best!**

**ChibiChibi**


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